


Teal Eyed Boy

by Vehn



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Artists, Alternate Universe - Punk, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Bottom Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), College Student Eren Yeager, Community: yaoi_challenge, Dominant Eren Yeager, Eventual Levi/Eren Yeager, Eventual Levi/Erwin Smith, F/F, F/M, Levi-centric (Shingeki no Kyojin), Levi/Eren Yeager-centric, M/M, Model Eren, Older Eren Yeager, Punk Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Stripper Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Student Eren Yeager, Teacher Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Teacher-Student Relationship, Yaoi, attack on titan - Freeform, ereri, riren - Freeform, rivetra, smoker Levi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-26
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-19 17:02:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 18
Words: 76,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3617448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vehn/pseuds/Vehn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Running from his dark past, artist Levi Ackerman finds inspiration and love in the boy from the cafe, Eren Jaeger, his muse, his model for his paintings.</p><p>Tattooed smoker, alcoholic ex druggie artist Levi who falls for college student Eren Jaeger. Balancing his benefits relationship with Petra Ral, desperately working to pay off his debt from the past he fights to forget, Levi finds himself in unlikely situations where he can earn fast cash. Before he can fully grasp the gravity of his newfound situations, Levi is neck deep in an underground world where he's quickly becoming a rising star, hiding his growing love for the model of his paintings and struggling to hide lie after lie.</p><p>All because he kept returning to that cafe to see the teal eyed boy.</p><p>Updates every Thursday. Or whenever I finish a chapter. Whichever comes first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Oh hi chapter one! I don't have too much to say except thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoy! <3

I’ve always hated Chicago. No really, I have. I hate how dirty it is; yet it remains clean. I hate how there are so many people, yet hardly any at all. And I hate how damn cold it is despite the fact that it’s only September. 

Fuck you Chicago. 

You always hear love songs about Chicago, myths and legends that have arise from this oh so great city, the New York of the Midwest, the Los Angeles of Illinois, really it’s about the only damned good thing about Illinois except for well, nothing. But one thing I will not bitch about Chicago is the art here. They respect it, you can feel it in the air as you wander aimlessly, not quite sure what about it gives me that impression but I know that it is indeed respected. Perhaps that’s because it gets its name from artists, crazy, brilliant and sick minds that dwell here in Chicago. 

Sinatra sang about Chicago, it also caught on fire. 

The wind off one of the biggest fucking lakes in the goddamn United States is probably one of the harshest winds my skin has ever been forced to endure. It’s like knives are invisibly melded with nature, swirling and slicing through unsuspecting victims, cutting them apart alive like some sort of psychological torture. You’re so sure you’re bleeding from this throbbing, aching pain but you look at your hands, your toes and see nothing but chapped red skin. 

And it’s only September. 

My pocket vibrates; pulling me from the internal rant I was orchestrating as I observe a scrawny bald kid with an annoying voice feed the ducks. Pulling the cigarette from my lips a phone is to my ears, “Hello?” 

“Levi? Hey, it’s Petra, are you…are you busy? I’m in town again visiting my father, I thought we could see each other again.” Her voice came out soft and gentle, I remember hearing it in the mornings she spent in my bed. 

“Hey, yeah that…that sounds good. What were you thinking?” I ask, taking another drag of the cig. 

“Well my dad has visiting hours from noon to four, I plan on staying all four hours of that time…but we can do a late lunch or dinner?” 

Glancing to my watch, the glass face reads that it’s nearly three, “Are you there already?” 

“I am, a nurse here looked like you and I was reminded of our time together,” she laughs, the sound drawing a smirk on my own lips, “Anyways, dinner? I know of a good Japanese place not too far from the art college.” 

Immediately the place popped into my head, it was a good place, cheap and well within my budget for a date, which I was more than certain she thought this was. You take a girl out for dinner, have sex with and she thinks you’re a thing. “I know the place, I’ll meet you there. Seven thirty sound good?” 

I could practically hear her grin over the phone, “It sounds great. See you then, Levi.” 

The line goes dead, the phone back in my pocket and my ass leaves the bench seat. Continuing to nurse my cigarette, I wonder how far the nearest Starbucks is, when it’s cold like this, a hot earl grey with one sugar and a dash of lemon and honey sounded wonderful. Then again, there was always that guy that worked that the Starbucks nearby, that teenager-ish guy that looked like he was twice my age when he was really half it. Oulo? Auro? Oreo? 

I’ll figure it out soon enough. 

If I were smart, I’d skip the tea, save back the money for a dry martini tonight, go back to my loft and take a shower from being outside all day. Why bother really, Petra would still be all over me if I met her for dinner right after I had a five-mile jog through mud. 

Reaching the end of my cigarette, it falls to the ground, quick to be crushed beneath my boot, to be safe; I briefly grind it into the sidewalk before continuing my stride. Out of the corner of my eye the flashing of a sign catches my attention. To the left, tucked in a large alcove blinked the sign inside a small café, Maria Café was written in what appeared to be Times New Roman lit up by white neon lights. Peering inside revealed a tea bar, boxes of loose-leaf assortments displayed like a bar would their liquor. A few people were inside nursing their drinks coupled with mostly eaten or the remains of sweets, which were on display to the left. 

Before I knew it, my hand was on the handle, pulling back the door; the strong, intoxicating scent of earl grey, jasmine, green, and chamomile teas swirled in my senses. Exhaling, a pleasant smile claims my lips, the perky blond behind the counter smiles at me, drying his hands on a tea towel, “Seat yourself, I’ll be right with you, sir.” He greets, voice a bit squeaky for a boy his age, puberty’s a bitch.

Following his instruction, I claim a stop at the bar, plucking a well-displayed placard menu from a carousel of sweeteners, lemon and honey. Glancing it over one could not help but be impressed by their extensive selections and specialties. Just my luck, today was Black Tea Friday, all black teas half off. Setting the menu back down my gaze meets the overly eager one of the blond. 

“Anything catch your eye?” he asks with a warm smile.

“Earl grey, single serving with one lump and the latte topping.” 

Nodding he sets a coaster before me with the café’s name stamped into it, “Coming right up, sir.” He replies, automatically beginning to gather the ingredients and glassware, “Would you like anything to eat with that?” 

“No thanks.” 

Turning right back around he resumes his previous task. The kid was a modern artist and his hands were his paint and brush. Feet hardly creating noise as he moves about, those skilled hands reach for a large white cup and saucer, setting them down one atop the other to immediately reach to a ornate tin marked Earl Grey, scooping some of the loose leaves out into a strainer that fit over the diameter of the cup. Within seconds another hand drifts out to get an already boiling kettle, carefully pouring scalding water over the leaves, the rich scent exploding from a simple reaction, turning clear water to rich amber. 

He then flits to another machine, punching in a few numbers, tapping a button or two before returning to the cup. Lifting out the strainer, he taps away the soaked bits in a large mason jar, discarding the strainer into a pile of previously used ones and delicately lifting the cup from the saucer. At the machine he waits a moment for it to beep, placing it in a certain place beneath a tiny spout. A soft gasp escapes him as a hand lashes out to a bowl marked sugar, plucking a single cube, dropping it in the tea, stirring it with a small spoon before disposing the utensil and pressing a blinking button on the machine. Gradually, a gentle hum joins the soft jazz filling the air from a record player in the corner. 

Soon it stops and before I know it, my order was beautifully displayed before me, a leaf drawn in the latte foam. My eyes shift from the tea to the blond, whose large blue eyes sparkled with pride, as they should, this kid could win awards. 

“Enjoy your drink, let me know if there’s anything else I can get you.” He smiles, pushing the carousel towards me, “It shouldn’t need any doctoring but just in case.” 

Nodding, the soft chime of another entering the shop sounds, directing the blond’s attention. Gingerly cradling the perfectly warm cup between my fingers, I lift it to my lips; out of habit a breath cools the liquid, distorting the leaf as I claim the first sip. It was warm, flavorful, sweet yet still having the power of a black tea. The latte foam served as yet another sugary taste, however it was so subtle the mixture only served to complement the flavors, giving the illusion of a traditional British blend. More than satisfied with the beverage, I eagerly tilt it back to my mouth, parting it to greet another mouthful. 

Beside me something shatters, setting the cup down I see shards of an identical cup to the one in my hands in pieces on the hardwood floor. 

“Eren!” the blond wails, visibly deflating, slapping a tea towel on the bar countertop, “That wasn’t funny!”

The brunette who I could only assume was Eren lets out a low growl, taking the towel, dropping to one knee to gather the pieces in the cloth. He seemed taller than the blond, who was only an inch or two above my own height. His skin was a lighter tan color as if he had been sunbathing for an hour or two. For hair he had dark brown hair, which only served to pop out those brilliant eyes that were glancing up at me. 

Turning away from him, I force myself to take another drink, shifting slightly in my seat. Something about that kid set me off, causing my muscles to tense and jaw to clench. It was probably the caffeine from the tea plus the nicotine from the cigarette earlier. 

“You can pay for that too.” The blond continues to scold as Eren sets the glass filled towel on the bar top. 

“I get it.” He exhales, annoyance on his tongue, “Calm down, how many of my hangers have you broken? Let’s just call it even.” 

“A hanger isn’t the same as a piece of fine china!”

“Sure it is, they’re both made in China.” 

A short chuckle slips from my lips, causing some of the tea to spurt mid drink. The blond reaches towards me offering a napkin. Taking it, I dab at my lips, surprised that such a lame comeback had drawn that kind of reaction from me. 

“He thinks it’s funny.” Eren smirks, leaning on one hand, those deep eyes locking on mine, sending my heart into my throat. 

The fuck was with this kid? Yeah, he was extremely pretty for a boy, but boys were by no means my thing. At all. 

“Don’t flatter yourself.” I mutter, setting the napkin down, smoothing it out with a hand, and lifting the tea up again. 

He wets his lips as the blond makes a groaning noise, discarding the glass, “…that’s a weird way to hold a cup.” 

Oh for fuck’s sake. 

“I’d rather be sure not to break it as you just did.” I grumble from behind the Porcelain, “Maybe you should take notes.” 

He scoffs, “Maybe you shouldn’t be so stiff. Lighten up.”

“Eren, stop harassing my customers.” The blond snaps. 

Cutting him a stern expression, I finish off the tea, setting the cup back on the saucer, “How much do I owe you?” 

The blond sighs, “A dollar fifty.” 

Reaching to my coat pocket, I set a five-dollar bill on the counter, “Keep the change.” 

He smiles, taking the payment, “Thanks very much, sir!”

Gifting him a rare half smile, I move to stand, my foot catching on what I think to be part of the bar stool, stumbling slightly, a hand lashes out to grip the countertop, but the stool moves away, furthering the trip. Fumbling for something to grasp, I feel my fingertips graze the smooth wood of the bar, then something more polished. Gripping it, the object slips from my hand, the loud crash of it sounding shortly followed by a shrill shriek. 

Staring down I catch a sneaker slip out of sight, eyes traveling up I see it belongs to the kid named Eren. Sounds of the blond mourning the loss of another cup comes from the other side of the counter. 

“Smooth.” The brunette laughs, casually crossing his legs at the ankles. 

Glowering at him I takes a step closer to him, suddenly aware of how tall he was, even slightly hunched at his slouched posture. Height never intimidated me from a potential opponent nor would it now. Capturing his gaze with mine I restrain the urge to grip his shirt in my hand, “Are you wanting to fight?” I hiss, “Because trust me, you won’t win.” 

A smile lights up his face as he leans a bit closer, “Calm down, you tripped, it was an accident. I guess it was good I didn’t take notes, huh?” 

“You shitty brat.” I jab a finger into his surprisingly hard chest, the kid had more to him than the eye led on, “Do it again, and I won’t be as nice.” 

“Oh, so you’re going soft on me?” he leans closer, “That’s cute.” 

Was this little turd flirting with me or wanting to be backhanded through the wall? Either way, he was damn lucky we were in this café and not on the street or in a bar; otherwise I’d be mopping the floor with his smug face. But even I knew when to let bygones be bygones, and this kid clearly wanted to start shit for the sake of starting shit. Despite my wanting to put him in his place, the nagging reminder of dinner with Petra grounded me; the woman did not take too kindly when she saw scuffed knuckles on a dinner date. 

Turning to the blond, I nod to him, “Thanks for the tea.” 

He offers a small smile, an apology on behalf his friend in the gesture. 

Stepping back from Eren I sheath my hands into my jacket pockets, giving him a firm glare before walking away from him. The entire journey to the front door I could feel those eyes on me. Something about them stopped my heart, my blood, forcing a reaction I’ve yet to experience before in my life from me. Perhaps it was those eyes, those hypnotic eyes, he knew how to use them and they are dangerous, as is he.

Lucky for him, so am I.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Levi and Petra have dinner together, and Levi slowly begins to obsess over Eren's eyes.  
> His special titan boy eyes. :3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know its not Thursday, but I'm a friendless loser who liked to write fan fiction on a Thursday...night. Yep, it's Thursday. Two chapters in two days, I'm on a role!
> 
> But this chapter gives more depth to Levi and his relationship with Petra. Plus his love for Eren('s eyes) :D
> 
> Thanks very much for reading!
> 
> Comments always welcomed, I love feedback! <3

Ambiance possesses more importance than most credit to for. Everyone is influenced by it whether they are aware of it or not, and its aesthetic draws it to and from places, people and situations. The wide range of one’s accepted atmospheres truly shows the individual’s colors. Take me for example: I live in a studio apartment in the West end of town, its impeccably clean, so much so that when people visit the inquiry of if I have a maid service come in almost always arises in conversation. Yet here I sit across from my date in a Japanese restaurant, one with filthy floors covered in a thin film of dirt and spilt food that the ordinary eye would not detect. The seats haven’t been properly wiped down in what looks to be months, the table is equally filthy and I cannot help but send a silent prayer of thanks to the tablecloth gods. One who has seen the setting of my home would never imagine that I of all people would willingly dine in such a lowly place. 

However, I am, I sit here holds a grimy menu, eyeing a salmon roll and miso ramen, not the least bit bothered by the lack thereof in my dining experience. I’m here with a woman whose intellect I value, whose body has done an efficient job at pleasuring mine and I enjoy the authenticity of the food here. The cooks in the back are middle-aged Japanese men who are well learnt in their craft and it shows in each meal brought out. 

Petra, we met a few months ago by accident on the train. She had tripped getting on, falling face first into my lap. Despite the strange meeting, we got along instantly, talking quietly on the ride, both headed for the same museum. I treated her for dinner at a pub; we shared beer and whiskey, leaning on one another as we tumbled into a taxi headed for my loft. Together we made love in front of the fireplace, waking up on the warm hardwood, her arms securely wrapped around my naked torso, her lips gently kissing on my neck and shoulders to wake me up because she couldn’t figure out where the bathroom was. 

“Levi, are you even listening to me?” her voice asks, bordering annoyance. 

Shifting my stare from the sushi selection to her I set the disgusting plastic on the table, “Hmm?”

Her lips set into a firm line, “You weren’t listening were you?” 

“I was thinking.” 

“Right. I was asking you if you wanted to go to my work’s benefit gala in the spring. We usually bring a date and since we’ve been seeing each other for a few months now…” 

“You know I don’t like big events like that.” I mutter, looking back to the menu. 

“I know, but…come on! I’ll look foolish if I don’t have a date, plus I talk about you in the office, everyone’s dying to meet you.” She smirks, leaning across the table, amber eyes alight, “Plus, I’m sure you look pretty damn sexy in a tux.” 

A frown pulls my lips, “A tux? You know damn well I can’t afford a tux.” 

“I’ll buy you one.” 

“Out of the question.” 

“Why? Because I’m a woman?”

“Because I don’t take charity.” 

“What if I rent it?” 

“No.” 

Her fist hits the tabletop in frustration, shaking our waters, “You’re so stubborn, Levi. I’ve done a lot of nice things for you, can’t you do this for me?” 

Exhaling I meet her flickering eyes, they are wide and take up a good portion of her tiny face. They convey every little emotion she’s feeling; they betray her in the most beautiful way. “I told you, I can’t swing a trip for the weekend to attend your gala. The plane ticket alone would cost a lot plus the renting of a tux. Besides, I’m not the type of guy you take to those things.” 

A pout, “What is that supposed to mean? You’re very handsome, you don’t need me to tell you that.” 

Lifting my right hand, the skin covered in tattoos all with deep meanings, on each finger was a large silver ring to cover the word ‘slave’ on each lower section of each finger. On my knuckles was bruised or scraped skin, the same went for my left hand. Tapping the North Star compass on the right side of my neck I clear my throat, “Tattoos, piercings and rings. The Upper East Side of Manhattan shuns men and women like me. Take the guy from your building, he seems nice enough.” 

She groans, reaching out to grip my hand, running her thumb over the rings on my fingers, “We can get tattoo concealer if you’re that insecure about it…and I can loan you the money for the ticket, no charity there. You will stay with me, rent the tux here or in New York, it will be fine, Levi.” 

“I can’t.” I sigh, watching her tiny hand caress mine, “School starts up soon, I was lucky to land that job, I’m sure I’ll be busy learning the ropes.” 

Sad eyes lock on mine, “Fine.” 

Her hand pulls away to prop her face, the waiter returning to take our orders. Placing them and handing back the menus our stares meet again. I crack a gentle smile, leaning on the table, “Oi. Don’t give me that look. I don’t want to go and I really can’t go. But I promise to visit you so you can show me New York. How’s that sound?” 

A smile fights her frown until it wins, lighting up her features, “Okay. You got a deal. But I’d rather show you to my gala.” 

“You mean show me off at your gala.” 

A mischievous smirk, “That wasn’t on my mind at all, whatever gave you that idea.” 

I shrug, lifting the water to my lips, “I wonder…” 

She shifts in her seat, casually checking her phone before flipping it screen down on the table, “How was second job hunting? Successful?” 

“Not particularly, but I’m going to stop it for awhile since I technically have one.” I reply, setting the drink down, “They’re paying me pretty well at the college, the dean was sympathetic to having rent due and gave me my first check ahead of time. Plus the curriculum is already pre-made so it’s not too hard a job, but working another on the side won’t be bad for my debts.” 

Straight teeth gently sink into plush lips as she leans on the table, “…I’m sure you’ll figure it out Levi, you’re really smart. What about your paintings? Can’t you make money off them?”

The paintings, I have more than I need piled away in a storage shed on the outskirts of town. Over the years they grew, a good portion of them consisted of landscapes and the occasional portrait. Painting is a passionate hobby of mine, one I never wish to die out or grow old, added with the fact that I had bit the bullet and invested in an agent, one who only took my case because of our friendship, my career as an artist refuses to take off. 

“The paintings won’t ever make money, Petra, they’re not something to even consider.” I mutter bitterly, quick to silence myself with another mouthful of water, watching out of my peripheral as the waiter brings out our orders.

She remembered that aspect of me, the artist aspect of me, a piece of my identity that I seldom tried to blatantly hide. However, as time and rejection coupled with unfound success I found it to be a habit to ignore that side from time to time. Yes, it was a hobby that I loved but it was nothing but a hobby, one that I stupidly continued to try to dream about becoming a reality. 

In all honesty I couldn’t recall the last time I felt inspired enough to truly paint. Yes, I painted Petra naked a good amount of times when she stayed in my loft, but that was more of my appreciation of the gentle way a woman’s body is formed, not from a deep craving in my being. But, when I let it, my mind would drift back to this afternoon in Maria Café to that boy named Eren with his large blue green eyes. Even with opened eyes I can see his warm caramel skin, dark brown hair, well-constructed facial structure all brilliantly displaying brilliant gemstones filled with pain while gleaming with luster from demanding all life can offer to him. 

I wonder if his skin is as warm as it looks, he looked as if he had been sunbathing for an hour or so. I wonder if his messy hair was soft or thick with waves mixed with curls. Even sitting in the restaurant I can recall his cologne, some sort of teenage blend from someplace stupid like Abercrombie or Hollister, but on his skin it smelt strangely enticing despite my hatred for strong fragrances. 

The kid certainly knew how to leave an impression.

...

Displayed in an ornate cave of white brick a fire flickers, serving as the set mood for the evening. Petra wanted to come home with her but my lying skills kept her in her rented room at the Hilton. We usually had sex every night she stayed, personally I think she needed it for the stress her father’s condition gave her and who was I to deny her the pleasure my body has to offer. But something continued to stir within me the more I thought on that Eren kid. 

My hands itched to move, to create. I needed to be alone to think, to remember that boy the best way I knew how. By sketching him for the thirteenth time tonight. Another sketch falls to the floor, littering the hardwood to join variant copies of the kid. I only saw him from three angles, his profile, three quarters and straight on. He was shown in the thermal undershirt, pale green button up and military material dark beige jacket, all attire bearing an Abercrombie deer or elk or whatever the fuck it is. Or I would draw how I thought he would look topless, or I would just stop once his face was clearly drawn. 

Now he was fully sketched again, three quarter view giving me a coy smirk, eyes barely crinkled in amusement at something of the scenario from earlier this evening. The kid was beautiful, that was undeniable, but he was a little shit. A beautiful little shit.

Dropping yet another portrait to the floor I lean back into the couch, exhaling as I run a hand through my hair, letting it rest at the nape of my neck, fingering the tiny hairs of my undercut. He was eating at my mind; I craved him as one may something they want. Although, I knew I did not want him in a sexual way, it was an inarguable truth that I wanted him as a model. But who was I, a stranger, to ask this teen boy to model for me? It could be slightly unorthodox even for me, or he could get the wrong idea of my intentions and try to complicate things with sex or emotions. That sort of thing happened with almost all of my models, but in all fairness I tricked them to fall in love with me, just as Petra is now. I love seeing people in love, seeing that light in their eyes and their entire being. They glow; alight from the inside, as if their heart were able to produce this spiritual light that caused them to radiate this brilliance that I alone stupidly think I can capture. 

So far I do believe that I have done a well enough job in capturing this bliss in the handful of victims that have stood or lain before my canvass, their radiance immortalized by my hands. Lost in the licking, fighting flames of the fire the fingers continue to toy with the shaven hairs, debating the curious notion that kept looping endlessly. Is this Eren someone I want to trick into loving me so I may steal that same astonishing emotion in paint?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Levi returns to Maria Cafe, to explore the clear possibility that he's not as straight as he once thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Levi, pining after Eren and his pretty eyes. Poor punk baby <3
> 
> I had a lot of fun writing this, Eren and Levi interactions are the best, plus Armin in the background. I'm going to do chapters later on from Eren's POV so you guys can know what's going on in his college life.
> 
> But yep, the next chapter, things really start to take off, so get ready...
> 
> Thanks for reading! Feedback much loved! <3

The wind here is always cold, always, I’ve lived here for only a handful of months and not once has the wind ever shown me any sort of favor. Maybe the city can sense how I loathe being here, or perhaps my astronomical luck with the weather has taken a less than favorable turn of events. Either way, the icy air cuts through my multiple black layers, causing the fingers holding the burning cigarette to tremble slightly as I bring the burning nicotine to my lips once again. 

Inhaling the fire, its pushed out of my system and released into the air from between bared teeth. Silvery white wisps curl unto itself before floating upwards to eventually evaporate into the atmosphere. At least with the tiny fire in my hand I was given some form of warmth, I could be given more of it if I could conjure the courage to extinguish it and enter the café. 

Maria Café, it’s where I saw him, that boy with the stunning features and cocky attitude who had a penchant for breaking fine china, the boy who was drawn countless times in my sketchbook and pieces of paper littering my usually clean floors. For someone to be the result of a voluntary mess in my home, this was quite serious. I couldn’t even pinpoint what about this kid that drew me to him so powerfully. Three days have passed, pre-planning for my job have been done ahead of time so I can spend more time obsessing about him, trying to perfect the color of his eyes on the canvass. I’ve rejected my one shot at sleeping with Petra, I don’t even respond to her texts and calls, fighting to replicate that breathtaking blue-green is all that’s on my mind and is all I want to accomplish. 

Leaning back on the building across the street from the tiny café, I draw more smoke, if only I had just gone to fucking Starbucks. I wouldn’t have run into Eren at Starbucks, I wouldn’t have this nagging impulse to preserve eyes like his forever. It was a selfish quest, one I so desperately wanted to deny myself, for the kid wasn’t in love, he broke the pattern of my work, it wouldn’t fit the equation! Nothing about him or the reasoning behind him made any sense, yet I was dedicated enough to fabricate excuses for my actions no matter how foolish they sounded. 

But I knew the moment I left that café three days ago that I would be back, and staring at it this second the reality that I will enter it again is all too real. I will see him again, he was obviously close to the blond bartender, they were close friends that was painfully evident. Eren would be back, to break more cups or to say hello. A sad nagging piece of me nagged in a pathetic pining that he would walk in the same day I was already sitting at the bar.

Killing the cigarette, my boot grinds it into the pavement, legs carrying me across the street, skillfully dodging traffic to open the door to Maria Café for the second time. The tiny bell on the corner of the door jingles to announce a customer, drawing the blond’s attention from a book. He smiles at me, shutting his copy of 1Q84, perking up as he hides it. 

“Welcome to Maria Café, take a seat anywhere.” He beams; the kid was like the sun from Tellytubbies, blond, happy and a bit too bright.

Nodding to him, my body claims the same seat as before, shedding the thick leather coat, draping it on the barstool beside me. The blond lingers before me, rolling up his sleeves, readying for the order, “I’m surprised you came back, actually.” He confesses softly, “Especially after how rude Eren was to you…”

Taking the placard menu from the carousel I shrug, “The tea was good, I’m not going to let a brat keep me from it.”

He laughs, “I’m glad to hear that! I really am sorry about Eren, he can be pretty impulsive”

“It’s fine.”

“…I’m Armin. Armin Arlert.”

“That’s nice.” 

A sigh passes his lips as he leans on the counter, I could feel him looking at my piercings and tattoos, “Did those tattoos hurt?” 

“It was a needle jabbing into my skin at about five miles per hour, one could say that it hurt.” I reply, pulling out my e-cig, clicking it on to tag a deep drag, expelling the smoke out my nose knowing which question was next, “The hand and collar bone hurt the most, bones work like that.” 

“Why did you…”

“Personal reasons.” All the same questions, I’ve heard them nearly a million and three times, everyone asks the same ones, no one is original when it comes to inquiring about tattoos.

“I like your rings, they’re really neat. The geometric designs are nice, hey is that a real garnet in the index finger…” 

“I’ll have a house coffee with crème, one sugar.” 

His voice dwindles off to a mumble as he smiles with a small nod, “Coming right up!”

Turning around, he begins to work, performing his skilled magic once again, those nimble pale hands gliding and sliding around the bar, brewing, mixing and creating. Stealing another inhale of the faux smoke, watching as he stops, gathering his straight blond locks away from his face in a half up half down ponytail type hairstyle. It made him look like a poet or philosopher. 

A door next to him opens and closes, revealing the brunette that was scattered all over my hardwood floor. He was holding a stack of papers held together by a clamp and rubber band, “Here’s those numbers you wanted, Armin.” He sighs as he stifles a yawn, “Shops doing good as always.” 

Smiling gently, he stops his work to glance over the papers, lifting a few pages, “Thanks, Eren, Grandpa can’t really do the numbers anymore, and I’m not the best with them.” 

“It’s no big deal, just keep making my coffee in the morning and helping me with my French and we’re good.” 

Armin laughs softly, setting the documents down, “Yeah yeah, Mikasa stopped by looking for you. She seemed really mad.” 

He frowns, sitting on the countertop, “Still? I already apologized to her asshole boyfriend, what more does she want from me?” 

“Something more than a vague Facebook status.” The blond retorts, tapping a finger on the crème machine, “You never actually apologized.”

“Yes I did. Online. This is the twenty first century, and Mikasa scares me.”

“She’s your sister.” 

“She has a fifth degree black belt and a spare key to our dorm room, she’s terrifying.” He points out, “I’m surprised she hasn’t staked it out in the room yet.” 

Armin works on some sort of latte art on my drink, “I think she’s got some sort of tournament with the karate team, she’s been pretty busy. But if you don’t apologize soon, she’ll probably start doing weird stuff again.” 

Eren groans as his friend turns to me, a warm expression on his face as he sets the coffee before me, “Anything to eat to go with this? We have a really good raspberry scone, fresh baked this morning.” 

Surprisingly enough, that sounded amazing right now, plus the food gave me an excuse to be in here longer since it looked like it was Eren’s hideout from this Mikasa, “Yeah, that sounds good.”

Looking to Eren he motions to the pastry display, “You heard him.”

Slowly sliding off the counter, he stares me down as I take my first sip of coffee. His face was reddening, knuckles gripping the marble top tightly. I made him nervous. Good. Swallowing thickly, he tears his stare away, doing as the blond told him to, putting the scone on a small plate then setting it before me. Staying, he crosses his arms, “You’re back.” 

“The sky is blue, Bo Peep lost her sheep, these are things we know.” I answer dully, setting the coffee down.

“For a shorty, you’re pretty sassy.” He smirks.

Cutting him a dangerous glare, I cannot help but glower directly into those damned eyes of his, “Watch your tongue, brat. I’d hate to see you lose it.” 

“Are you threatening me?” he snaps, leaning closer, causing my breathing to stop.

“Make another joke regarding my height and we’ll find out.” I exhale, picking up the coffee again.

He inhales to do just that, but is silenced by the sharp words of, “Don’t even think about it, Eren.” 

The brunette flashes me a broad smile as he taps the bar top with an index finger. Just looking at the sparkle in those eyes I could tell how badly he wanted to speak out, to talk back and edge on the argument all because he got off on it. He honestly received some sort of high from arguing, I’ve seen boys like him, they tend to get into one too many street fights, collecting an impressive stack of hospital bills. But that smile, it had a different message hidden inside it entirely. This kid was more dangerous that I credited him for; his lethal abilities that could hinder me weak were in those gorgeous green eyes, he knew exactly how to use them to his advantage. 

“You’re lucky Armin’s here.” He whispers, “Otherwise there’d be nothing to hold me back from you.” 

Was he hitting on me?

“You don’t want to start a fight with me, kid. You won’t win.” 

Another smile, “I don’t want to fight you, not in the way you’re thinking.” 

“No thanks.” 

His brow raises, voice lowering he inches a bit closer, “You sure you don’t even want to try? One night with me, I’m sure I can change your mind.”

Forcing the coffee on my tongue down my throat I set the cup back down. The kid certainly was forward, overly confidant, admirable traits that normally are worth applauding if the individual wasn’t causing me to question my sexuality. I’m straight. I know I’m straight, then why is it that this brat installs a new brand of stimulants into my bloodstream? He hasn’t even touched me but when he does something as simple as look at me or talk to me it’s as if he’s touching me all over. I want to give him one night, but I fear what would become of me once the sun rose.

“Not a chance.” I reply.

“I’m not stupid.” He informs me stiffly, “I see the way you look at me, you get stiff and do this weird thing where you try to hard to act like you don’t care.” 

“I don’t care. And I can see how you look at me, it’s best to let you know how uninterested I am now before getting your hopes up, kid.”

“You’re full of bullshit.” 

“Excuse you?” I snap, meeting those defiant orbs again, “I told you, I’m not interested.”

“Then why did you come back?” he demands, leering closer, too close, I could smell his cologne, and god damn it I liked it, “Was it for the drinks or something else?”

Armin’s large blue eyes tremble as he places a hand on Eren’s shoulder, shooting me an apologetic glance, “Eren, stop, lower your voice.”

Eren’s jaw tenses as his hand on the bar top curls into a tight fist, “Was it for something else?” he murmurs.

I stare at him long and hard, the kid must have thought about me as long as I think about him. Although I doubt that he draws me as I have drawn him, nor does he   
find my grey eyes are enticing as his green ones. He is why I came, I could try to lie a thousand times around that truth, but I’d always end up with him as the solution to the problem. But, there is no way he could know that, the brat would probably be too pleased by that fact. 

“Your friend is very skilled at his job.” I reply softly, pulling out a twenty, laying it on the counter top, “Nothing more, Eren.” 

His eyes widen to an absurd width as a soft gasp tears from his lips, “You…you know my name?” 

Shrugging, I slip on my coat, “Yeah, Blondie’s said it enough times.”

He wets his lips, not moving as Armin sneaks around him to slip the twenty off the counter and bus the dirty dishes, “Can I know your name?”

Lighting a cigarette I shake my head, the last thing this kid needed was a lead to my front door, “Fat chance. See you around, Eren.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wet dreams, love confessions and in class surprises.  
> Oh my.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow this turned out a lot longer than intended! But I really like how it changed from the original idea, things only get worse from here my dears. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> Feedback much loved~

“You’ve come back for a week and a half straight.” He breathes, lips against my ear, taller form perfectly forcing my shorter stature into the alleyway wall behind the café, “At the same time. Everyday. Why?” 

“I told you.” I frown, hating how my body reacted to his mouth being so close to my ear, “The drinks are good.” 

“They’re not that good.” 

“Says you.” 

His lips curl into a slight smirk as he exhales, that breath caressing the shell of my ear, sending electrifying chills down my spine, down my chest, between my legs, into the palms of my hands. “You’re pretty good at lying.” He murmurs, lessening his hold to grip the shoulders between his hands tighter, “But I was raised by a liar, so I know how you bastards work.” 

“Daddy issues. How original.” 

“Napoleon complex. How cliché.” 

I cannot help but to smirk, lifting the gaze I had locked on his chest to meet the fire behind those green eyes, it was a low boil, flickering and lashing gently like an animal of prey staring down its prize. Eren, he was pushy, overly confident and incredibly driven, this much is easily deducted from how insistently he’s been underhandedly flirting with me for the past nine days. 

“You’re full of shit.” I shift under his hold, giving him fair warning before actually attempting to beat a path from between him and the wall, “You have five seconds to let go of me before you regret touching me, brat.” 

His hold shifts, a warm hand cups the space between my jaw and collarbone, sliding to the back of the neck, forcing our eyes to remain locked on each other, “Don’t call me a brat.” He breathes, eyes lowering to a close, his body shoves into mine, and trapping me as his lips claim mine. 

Instantly my eyes fall closed, I didn’t know my hands were holding his upper arms until they gripped the toned limbs tighter. Head swimming in the taste of him and him alone, the once tense body relaxes, his hold takes advantage of this, arms wrapping around me. He lifts me up into the wall, deepening the kiss, our lips instinctively working with one another, wordlessly arguing in a demand for dominance. 

Eren’s lips are soft, firm and a bit larger than my own, but they weren’t overpowering as some larger lips can be. I could taste mint gum on his tongue as it swipes across my lower lip, his teeth lightly nip on the same area, sending chills rippling through me. Part of me wanted to give into him, to allow him to take control of the situation, but that would be too easy. He’d work for this; he’d work for me. 

Returning the favor, I capture his bottom lip between my teeth, massaging it gently in a teasing nibbling motion, drawing a low moan from him. His body trembles, hands grip me tighter, more possessively, as if I have always belonged to him. Never in all twenty-eight years spent on this planet have I ever felt this connected to someone before. No one has ever touched me like they own me, not just my body but me, Levi, the damaged solider of life. Not once have I felt the touch of assurance, yearning and acceptance, this brat didn’t even know my name, but I could feel in every kiss, every touch that he wanted me, not just my physical self, but all of my self.   
This was terrifying, but incredible, I will not allow it to leave me.

Feeling the brick scratch on the leather of my jacket, the teen gets brazen, reaching down to grip my thigh, lifting it to rest on his hip, his other hand does the same with my other leg, before I knew what I was doing, my legs were wrapped around his hips. My arms were linked around his neck; hands gripping his thermal shirt, tangling the material as he firmly grips my ass and middle back, taking us away from the wall. 

The movement was a harsh reminder of the burning between my legs, the slight friction drawing a soft moan from my lips; I craved for him to touch me there, anywhere, so long as his fingers were what were touching me. I wanted him to throw me down, climb atop me and show the potential I saw in his eyes, his fierce demeanor. Never have I wanted to be dominated by anyone, except him. Only him. Yet, my pride had my lips working against his, tongue battling his, exploring and claiming his mouth as he struggles to work as fast as I do. 

His capable arms lie me down on some sort of surface, eyes part long enough to see him lift away from me, arms raised over his head as he shrugs off his jacket, coat and then peels off his thermal shirt. A well sculpted, perfectly tanned torso was hiding under all of those layers, the brat had a surprising amount of definition, his shoulders were broad, pecks inflated with muscles, below that were the lines of hard earned abs. Every inclination within me craved to touch that body be it with my hands or mouth, but he gave me no time to admire him any further as he bends back down, joining our mouths again in a rough kiss. Taking hold of my shoulders, he impatiently throws off my leather jacket, the belts clinking loudly as they hit the floor, his eager hands grip the hoodie underneath that, shedding it just as easily, leaving my long sleeved shirt and tank top under that. 

With a hand resting on the border of the hem of my shirts and the pantline of my jeans, he slips a thumb underneath the layers, slowly pushing the cloth up my body, cool air hitting exposed skin, a shiver momentarily claims me as the rest of my top layers leave me. Those lips of his move to my neck, kissng where my compass tattoo is, skilled tongue drawing obscure patterns on the skin. A hand traces my collarbone, my head tilts back onto the table he set me on, that hand wanders lower, taking my nipple between two fingers as he fiddles with it. Those kisses lead to my ear, tongue flickering along the curve of the shell of my ear, his breath was hot in my ear, gripping my mind in a white hot desire, hips rise to meet his, our hardened members barely begin to grind against one another. I gain a deep moan from him, the sound right in my ear, so delicious and erotic that a similar echo slips from me.

He moves from my ear, back down my neck traveling to my collarbone, chest. Capturing the other unattended nipple, his teeth take it, gently teasing it, his two fingers still skillfully pinching and twisting the other. A trembling takes control of my body, a pathetic moan rips from me, his name on the noise, the shit snickers as he releases the sensitive spots overtaken by him. 

Sinful actions travel lower on my torso, his mouth explores every inch of it, savoring it. His hands caress the skin as if it would break, but there was that same possession there as if we had belonged to each other for two thousand years. Inching lower and lower, Eren’s hands fumble slightly with the belt over my hips, but quickly figure it out, reaching his current prize. The kisses stop, and he uses his tongue again, dragging it along the sensitive skin right above the member, the erection nearly painful, I’m certain he could make me come without even touching my dick, the kid had clearly had too much experience for his age. Those exotic eyes flick up, I could feel their intensity on me and I wanted to see them. They were why I brought myself to that café every day. 

Seeing that passion in them lit a fire throughout my body, rippling throughout me as desperate pants come out in labored intervals. His hand slowly travels up my body again, rubbing underneath my rib with his thumb, as if to comfort me and assure that he knew what he was doing. That much at least was painfully clear. 

Eyes fall closed once again as the licking transitions back to kisses, his teeth take the elastic band of my boxers, forcing it down to free my member. His heavy breathing hits the sensitive skin; gentle kisses trail up the length of it before his mouth delicately takes the tip, suckling on it with dexterity. Hands rest on my hips thumbs sweetly sooth the skin, only intensifying the sensations. 

Another groan escapes me, I fight the urge to start thrusting into his mouth, instead I opt to grip a handful of that messy brown hair, that was surprisingly soft to the touch. He works, tongue swirling and pleasuring me, forcing sounds that I couldn’t believe were coming from my throat, all from this boy’s carnal desires. Breathing escalating, I feel him take me entirely, sending me into a completely different level of bliss. Is this what it is like to be a woman? To be dominated by a man who knows exactly how to touch your body and unlock pleasures you yourself did not even know it possessed? If it is, then for once I wish I were born a different sex, for perhaps I would’ve given my body to him sooner. 

Head bobbing, he moans, creating a vibrating sensation throughout my member, sending me over the edge, my climax leaving me in a white hot gripping passion, resulting in my screaming out, “Eren!” 

Pulling away, he stares me down, tongue darting out of his mouth to lick away a small splatter of cum on his lip. Smiling softly he kisses me again, over and over, sweetly at first, then rushed, as if we only had those kisses left to ever exchange.

“So much for your five seconds.” He smirks, nuzzling my face with his nose, the kisses starting up all over my cheek, “So much for you not liking men.” 

“Shut up.” I exhale, closing my eyes, allowing myself to be lost in his touch, which for some reason slowly began to fade. His warmth was leaving me, as if he were evaporating. I didn’t want it to leave, not this soon. 

Opening my eyes, I see him to be gone, the light from the window above my bed filtering into the room, judging by how golden it was, it was about noon. Beside me was not the tall, tanned boy with the mesmerizing eyes, but the short tangled crown of ginger hair I knew too well. Her gentle breathing hit my chest; her small hand draped on my naked torso, glancing down I saw that she was awake, large amber eyes tiredly blinking as she yawns. Stretching, her slender body presses into mine, the sharp bottoms of her ribs testing the elasticity of her skin as they poke me. 

“Good morning.” She smiles, stealing a kiss, holding my jaw, forcing more from me. Giggling softly, she abruptly grips between my legs, enlightening me to how hard I was, “That’s some morning wood, Levi.” 

Sighing I raise my arms above my head, rubbing my eyes, “If you want to take care of it, I won’t stop you.” 

Laughing she shakes her head, lazily throwing her leg over my hips, sitting atop me, resting her elbows on my chest, giving me the strangest look, “Who’s Eren?” she asks softly, tracing the growling face of the dragon that spilled onto my collarbone. 

Shit. 

“I don’t know.” I reply with a shrug, reaching up to smooth her messy hair, “Why?”

“You said their name in your sleep.” She replies almost sadly, “Levi…you’re only seeing me, right? You only paint me for your art, right?”

Oh god, not this. I honestly thought she was a bit more confident than this, “Of course, I told you, I’d let you know if I was seeing someone else.” 

“Then why are you moaning out the name Eren after you sleep with me?”

Fuck, her eyes were doing that angry thing, where they shift from amber to brown, “Are you seriously getting mad at me because of a dream? Do you know how stupid that sounds?” 

“Are you seeing anyone?” 

“Damn it, I already told you. I’m not.”

“Then why won’t you tell me who Eren is?”

“Because I don’t even know who Eren is.” 

“Judging by this,” she grips the boner that was finally starting to calm down but flared back up from touch, “, you know exactly who Eren is.” 

Exhaling, I rub my forehead, “A hooker I hired last week. She was really good at giving blow jobs.” 

“You hire hookers?!” 

“Yeah, don’t worry, I use condoms.”

Shaking her head she roughly slaps my chest, standing up, feet on either side of my torso, one swiftly slams into my rib. Inhaling sharply, a hand lashes out to hold the wounded spot, “Shit, Petra!”

Not saying a word she hops off the bed, bending down to pick up the clothes I stripped from her last night. Hastily she gets on her underwear, working on her trousers as I get out of bed, wrestling to get my boxers on, holding her from behind, kissing on her shoulders, “It was a dream, calm down.” 

Whirling around, she glowers at me, lips set into a fine line, “I won’t calm down! You’ve been seeing prostitutes behind my back!”

Still keeping her in my arms I frown, “We go months at a time between seeing each other, I’m sure you have flings here and there too.” 

“No, Levi. I don’t.” she snaps, shoving me away, storming to the other side of the bed to pick up her blouse, “Yeah, sometimes I make out with a guy here and there, but I don’t have sex with anyone else!”

“You never told me we were exclusive.” I point out, “I thought this was a casual partnership.” 

Grabbing a small statue from the nightstand table, she throws it inches from my head, “Fuck you, Levi! I…I…I thought it was pretty clear that…” she shakes her head, trembling as she fights back tears, “I’m such an idiot.”

Timidly, I carefully walk to her, holding her shoulders, pressing my lips to her temple, “…I won’t hire any more hookers.” I say softly, “I promise.” 

“Damn right you won’t!” she shrieks, slapping my upper arm, tears falling, “I love you, Levi, and you’re dreaming about hookers!”

Eyes widening, the air in my lungs is swiftly taken from me. Her wide eyes become larger as the impact of her words hits as she wets her lips, looking down at the floor, muttering a soft curse. Swallowing thickly, I guide her back to the bed, sitting her down, keeping a firm hold of her shoulders. “Petra…do you mean that?” 

More tears glisten in her eyes as she looks me straight in the eyes, “No. I don’t. It slipped out…just…forget it.” 

Ouch. 

“Petra.” I murmur, brushing some of her hair away, “…I…I’ll see you tonight? After my class?” 

Sighing, she hides her eyes with her hand, her Adam’s apple bobbing as a long exhale fills the air, “Alright…at Leochi’s. When do you get off?”

“Six thirty, I have a meeting after the class.” I stroke her hair again; “I’ll see you there at seven.”

Nodding, she stands, bending down to slip on her blazer, and cram her feet back into her heels. Turning around, she holds my face in her hands, staring for a long moment, “See you at seven, Mr. Ackerman.” She murmurs, “I’m sure you’ll be a great professor.” 

Smiling at her soothingly I hold her hands, “I’m only subbing in for the woman before me, she had a complicated pregnancy, they were desperate for someone to finish out the class.” 

Returning the small smile she pecks the tip of my nose, “Maybe they’ll give the job to you full time. You can pay off your student debts.” 

Battling the urge to frown at that last sentence I force myself to kiss her goodbye, walking her to the front door of my loft, giving her a small wave before shutting the door. Entering the kitchen I start the coffee machine, listening to it hum and complain as I go back to the bedroom, standing before my closet. Eyes graze the perfectly organized area, multiple shades of blues, greys, and blacks with some white and crème pieces appearing like a cloth color gradation. Selecting a pair of black trousers, dark blue button up and a matching black sports coat, I lay them on the bed, preparing the water temperature for a shower. 

“You can pay off your student debts.” Her words ricochet in my mind as I watch the water hit my hand, sliding off my skin to the white plastic bottom of the shower. 

She buys my lies so easily, as does everyone, but as Eren said in my dream, I’m a skilled liar. That’s all I’ve done for so long, lie, twist the truth to force it to benefit me. There is no student debt, not once in my life have I ever been educated beyond my time in high school, the documents that the Chicago college has are all forged by a man who refused to give his name when he paid for my release from prison. I wanted to find him, track him down and demand why he would pay for a petty dealer’s prison bid, but I restrained myself from doing as such in fear of it being my father behind that anonymous charity. 

When I think about how much money I owe the underground, my stomach tightens. My own uncle played a beautiful role in selling me out, and I was quick to do the same when it came to being shipped off to prison, his name alone halved my sentence. And while the state of Nevada will keep him away from me for sixty years for his crimes, his gang’s presence and pressure to pay off what I owed that man is not behind bars. 

Stepping into the shower, the steam rises around me, relaxing my muscles as I start to scrub the sex off my body, her scent mixed with mine leaving the skin. Watching the soap react with the water, my mind wanders to a familiar, dangerous place. Eren, that brat haunted my dreams, causing a fight so early in the morning and we barely know one another. Yet some part of me clearly want to explore his body, or at least have him pleasure mine, which I’d be fine with. I’d be an even more despicable liar if I said that I had never kissed a boy or experimented with one. High school and the few years after that was a dark time, and everyone looks good when I’m drunk, but I would by no means say I’m gay. Sure, I can have some bi-sexual tendencies when the times between sexual acts is drawn out, but men are by no means my first choice. 

But as I recall how his hands and body felt in that damned dream, seeing how my body reacts to just thinking about that, it’s more than evident that perhaps, Eren could be the exception to that rule. However, with Petra, that’s too much of a risk. She means a lot to me, I value her as a friend, and from her slip up, it’s clear we weren’t as simple as I once thought. Throwing Eren into that mix will only start a fire.

Besides, I only know his name, and a few odd facts from overhearing him and Armin in the café. He’s a fantasy I want only because I know I cannot have him, he’s underage, he’s too young, he’s tall and tan and beautiful and god damn it; I want him. But I cannot have him, I refuse to have him. I just want his eyes, those stunning eyes. The want to preserve them for eternity on my canvass tortures the artist inside me, the one that knows I could perhaps actually become something if he were my muse. 

Yes, Petra made for a good piece, but she seemed too innocent, too real and ordinary in those paintings. Even when she’s stark naked, lying on my floor, lust filled eyes locked on me as I spend hours replicating what’s in front of me, there’s this purity to her that comes forth on the final product. Something about it I cannot help but hate. 

Drying my body, I dress it in the pantsuit and dark blue button up. Staring at my reflection, I adjust the collar, making sure most of the compass tattoo was hidden. But with the undercut style of hair I’ve chosen, this makes hiding the art difficult. They saw my sleeve in the interview and still hired me, I should be fine, this is college, not high school, but I still wanted to install some sort of respect into these brats. Taking a dark grey tie from the dresser, I secure it around my neck careful to leave it a bit loose and to keep one button undone on the shirt. 

Taking the towel, I finish off drying my hair best I can, within half an hour it would be dry and straight as it always is. Parting it slightly to the right, I leave the bedroom, picking up my briefcase, setting it on the island in the kitchen to pour my coffee. Securing the liquid in a travel mug, I slip my keys and phone in my pocket, heading downstairs to my car. 

Petra called me Mr. Ackerman earlier in the bedroom, which yes, that’s what they call me in government buildings and what I heard almost everyone call my father, but when I’m working as an artist, I use Rivialle as my surname. It also was a bit harder for people to track down my criminal record when Levi Ackerman has a long track record of illegal dealings and Levi Rivialle is a respectable college graduate with one DUI coupled with a plush life I burned the bridge to when I backhanded my father’s second wife.

Bitch had it coming. 

Lighting a cigarette, I get into my beat up Chevrolet, some older model from the nineties, it still smelt like pop rocks and corny television shows, but hey, cash isn’t exactly what I have an abundance of and the Childhood-mobile. 

Finding parking by the college was a bitch and a half, there was none. I had to park six blocks down and pay a homeless man five dollars to hope he repaid the meter once it was up. Entering the fine arts building, I flash the badge that was made for me a week ago, the receptionist giving me detailed instructions for where the room is for my classes today. 

The room was nice, large and open, a full wall of just windows to give nice natural lighting. Large drawing tables were set up, stained with past use, the computer desk meant for the professor was well worn as well. I loved rooms like this; you could smell old erasers and drying paint mingled with charcoal and lingering lead. Setting my briefcase down, I lay out the papers needed for class given to me by the dean, coping instructions to get onto the school’s online portals. With the roster displayed, I take out my e-cig, relaxing into my seat playing Tetris until a few students started to filter in. 

It was clear they had a system set up from the previous instructor, they unloaded the materials needed out of their portfolios and supply kits, leaving one ear bud out to keep tabs on anything said as they start to work. The instructor said that they were working on self-portraits in a chosen medium for their midterm project. Seemed easy enough, coach the kids on how to not suck, grade them based on what I deemed a fair basis, and follow the prescribed lessons. 

A majority of the room was filled, pocketing the cig, I stand, writing my name on the whiteboard in bold letters, turning to the seated students, “Ree-vee-all-aye.” I state phonetically, setting the marker down, “Not Richiole, not Richard, and certainly not Ravioli. Rivialle. But if that’s too hard for you, feel free to call me Levi, or Professor Levi, whatever works for you, I’ll respond to either three of those names.” 

A few nod back, showing that they were paying attention, I notice a girl whisper to her friend, eyes obviously checking me out. Slipping my hands into the pockets of the trousers, I lean on the wooden computer desk, “Your past professor, as you know, last week was her last week. She had complications with her pregnancy and had to leave and won’t be returning. I’m taking over, but don’t worry, we’re staying to the syllabus she created beforehand. It’s just easier for all of us that way.” Having the urge to smoke I wet my lips, “I’ll be following the school’s guidelines for tardiness, fifteen minutes and you’re absent. If you have a good excused and I believe it, I’ll ignore that rule. I don’t really care what you do during class, so long as you don’t disrupt anyone else’s creative process or interrupt me while I’m-” 

The door slams open, a chemistry paper flutters by my face as the kid quickly goes to their seat, loudly settling down, plucking the ear buds from his ears, dropping his backpack on the table. 

“-talking.” I finish dully, a few students chuckle.

He kept his head down, a hood covering his head as he roots around his bag for his materials, dropping them onto the desk. Snapping my fingers at him I take a few steps from the desk, “Oi! You. Name.” 

“Eren.” He replies, sweeping the hood of his jacket off his head, brown hair a complete mess, a dumb smile on his face that made those damned eyes sparkle, “Eren Jae…” his expression falls, mouth hanging open, “Oh shit…” 

Swallowing thickly, I force the memories from that dream from my immediate thoughts, “Welcome to Drawing 100, Eren Jae-oh shit.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren Jae-Oh Shit and Levi underhandedly hash it out, while Levi explores the joys of internet stalking via the Facebooks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay for sexual tension, I can't wait for the next chapter, like yes, oh my gosh yes, I can't even, I wrote it before this chapter actually. But yep. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, comments much appreciated! <3

One of the few aspects of teaching kids outside of high school is that they are paying for knowledge. They know better than to act out, they take instruction well and are fairly diligent workers. Each one has their own goal that their focus is locked on and its clear that they bust ass to get as close as they can to their objective. I’ve done some substituting jobs for this college before, here and there the past few months I’ve been here, their need for an art teacher was what drew me to Chicago in the first place, otherwise I was heading for Philly. 

And normally, this college has hardly given me trouble, if anything they’ve been quite easy to work with considering that I’m a stand in. The brats hardly give me trouble, the pay is good enough to keep the bills paid and the work wasn’t too challenging. As I said before, the students have their goals; they do their assignments fairly efficiently. But never have I had a student like Eren Jaeger. 

After role was called and the class was dismissed to continue working on their portraits, I submerged myself into the computer, thankful that the monitor was faced away from them. The only way for them to see what I was doing was if they were behind my shoulder or if I chose to mirror the content on the projector, which I was careful to make sure, was turned off. I had to be very cautious, for I rarely go onto social media, its not something I’ve ever wanted to bother myself with, plus a good portion of my recreational activities are illegal or not worth posting online about. But, about the only thing Facebook is good for is stalking someone without any risk of legalities being an issue. All it took to research this kid was to type in his name into the search bar, and there he was, smiling at me in a tiny square with his name and he name of the college underneath it along with his past high school, Shiganshina High. 

He worked at Maria Café; he was born in later March and was twelve years younger than me. From his family information, it appeared he was from a broken home, only his mother, Carla Jaeger, was listed along with a Mikasa Ackerman. In high school he played soccer for his school, and seemed to be fairly talented at it. There were photos of him in his uniform, grass stained and sweaty, his hair a mess around his well-formed face and muscles testing its boundaries in his jersey. Scrolling through his photos a lot of them were taken with his sister, Mikasa, who looked a lot like my aunt who died about a decade ago in a break in. With him was Armin in just as many photos, the two seemed close, arms tightly holding one another, heading leaning against one another. 

In something called a ‘Throwback Thursday’ he had old childhood photos on display of him in slightly oversized clothes, holding hands with Armin, who looked exactly the same but tiny. The photo after that was him and Mikasa, he was dressed as a prince and she a princess, he was kneeling and kissing her hand as she hid her face in a scarf around her neck. He was a cute kid, eyes a bit too large, and back then his features looked a bit too feminine but they were growing to be more masculine in age. Another was his mother holding him from behind, her arms around his stomach, he was laughing in the picture with tiny hands holding her forearms. He took after her; she was pretty with his facial structure and eye shape. Her hair was black and swept into a side ponytail, they shared the same smile, but his was a bit narrower than hers. 

“Professor.” His voice snaps, forcing me to casually minimize the page, I wanted to keep looking through his life.

“Yes?” I ask, pulling my hand from the mouse. 

“I had a question about the assignment’s color choices.” He informs me stiffly, setting the rubric on the desktop, “Why is it that we have to use grey when it doesn’t correlate with anything else going on in what we’ve learned?”

Scanning the words on the paper I tap on a sentence, “It helps mute the other colors, give them a more cool appearance in case they are too vibrant, it helps with shading.” 

“I see.” He frowns, “I just don’t see why that really matters, the colors are fine without it.” 

“Some shading won’t hurt your score, I assure you.” 

He shifts, wetting his lips then glancing over his shoulder at the class, no one was looking at us except that girl from earlier, “What the fuck are you doing here?” he demands in a low voice, “Is this a prank for how I acted in the café?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, I substitute here. I have for about seven months now, this is just an unfortunate circumstance.” Crossing my arms I lean back into the chair, “You can’t act like you do in your shop here. Behave yourself, Eren.” 

“I will if you can.” 

I feel a brow rise, “If I can? I’m an adult. This is my job. Watch your language around me, kid, and sit back down, you only have three class periods left before that midterm is due, and you have to turn it in when this class is over for pre-grading so you can clean it up before it’s formally turned in. I suggest you stop this little game, recognize we’re not in Café Maria, and get the fuck to work.” Leaning closer the scent of his cologne tickles my nose, muscles tense at the familiarity of it from last night’s dream, “Don’t make a scene here, your blond friend won’t be here to clean up your messes. Sit back down.” 

“Yes, sir.” He hisses, the word spitting from his lips as an insult would. 

Biting back a retort I sink back into the office chair, reaching into my jacket to pull out the e-cig, clicking it to draw a few drags, quietly exhaling them downwards. Glancing up, I check to make sure no one saw, which no one did, except for that one girl who kept staring at me off and on. 

Directing my attention to the computer, the Internet application is re-opened, Eren’s plethora of photos lined up on the screen. The kid knew how to dig his nails into me, I’ll give him that much credit, but I’m sure I was pressing his buttons right back, I just wasn’t fully aware of it, his eyes weren’t as readable as everyone else’s. 

The thing about people’s eyes is that they are gateways, small-orbed doorways that truly are a passage into the individual’s soul as well as their current state of mind. Every emotion in their mind and body can be found in one’s eyes if one knows how to search properly. A good majority of the population are open books with their eyes, its one of many aspects of the human body that I find myself in love with and are infatuated with painting. People like Petra can tell me everything without speaking, they express their true intentions silently, people are not a subject that are confusing to me, if anything they’re infuriating because I can see what they mean or want yet they lie to not only those before hem but to themselves. However, Eren is different, his eyes are stunning, mesmerizing, and guarded. He’s been through a few challenges already at his age, there’s a fine film of defense to those beautiful green-blue hues with the real emotion glimmering underneath it all. But he knew exactly how to use his eyes, that’s what struck him as a threat to me. 

Exiting out of the media website, I access the school’s online system, deciding to actually do my job, best get all of this out of the way now so that I won’t stand a chance to be late to my dinner with Petra. As if the woman wasn’t mad at me enough, being late to Leochi’s would probably earn me a fork in the shoulder and no sex the next visit she made to Chicago. Although I do not mind finding comfort in the arms of paid women, Petra felt clean, pure, like deflowering a virgin each and every time I gathered her against me and claimed her as mine. She was gentle except when she was overly passionate, then her nails would sink into my skin, yank on my hair until I was given a headache or bite on my lips until they were sore. 

I drove her insane, I drive everyone insane, especially Eren, even though I haven’t glanced up in a good half hour, I can feel his invisible gaze locked on me. 

Glancing to the clock I’m suddenly aware that class ends in fifteen minutes. Standing up I clear my throat, obtaining their attention, “Fifteen minutes.” I announce, “Clean up your materials, desks, you know the drill. Your first review is due today, please leave your works on the desk here,” I press a finger on a clean space on the wood, “, and I’ll have them reviewed and the feedback handed to you by the beginning of the next class.” 

Eren’s hand shoots up, of course it fucking does, “The past professor didn’t grade us like that, we had in class critiques and-”

“, those are a waste of time.” I snap, “I’d rather you pay to work in class and have the chance for my guidance and help instead of boring you all in pretending to give two shits about one another’s projects. They don’t have to be completed, I’d rather they not be at this point, it’s better to catch mistakes now.”

His lips curl into a smirk, resting his chin in his hand, “And what if we need more time? Could we schedule one on one tutoring with you, Levi?”

My breath catches, a slight pain forms in my fingers, which apparently they were gripping the desk on impulse. The way he said my name just then…thank god I was behind the desk otherwise there might have been a problem.

The girl who kept watching me snickers into her hand, eyes shifting to me, “Yeah, I could go for some tutoring with you too, Levi.” 

Frowning I cross my arms over my chest, “If extra instruction is needed outside of class, that can be discussed after your pre-evaluations have been handed back. Be sure your areas are clean, I’ll deduct from your conduct grades if they aren’t.” 

A chorus of groaning follows that statement as the shuffling of cleaning proceeds quickly after. Behind the desk I close my eyes for a moment, taking another drag of my cigarette, the damned brat…speaking my name like that, causing that sort of reaction. He didn’t say my name in my dream, but when it left his lips just then he may as well have gripped between my legs, he would’ve gotten the same reaction. Breathing the vapor between my teeth, the cig is pocketed, hands work to gather the strung out materials back into the briefcase, snapping it shut and setting it down, I reclaim my seat once more. 

One by one the paintings pile up, the students bid me goodbye and filter out of the room, checking my phone I see a few missed texts from Hange and Petra. Hange wanted to know if I had any ham to spare and Petra was confirming our plans. Replying to Hange a smug voice asks, “Texting your girlfriend?” 

I didn’t even have to look up to know who was talking. 

“Hardly.” I mutter, hitting send then opening my conversation with Petra, “Class is over, go home, Jaeger.” 

“I have a few questions.” He replies, “About tutoring…” 

“No.” 

“No what?” 

“No to tutoring you. From the shameless flirting in Maria Café, I can only imagine what games you’d try to pull alone with me in a classroom.” I slip the phone back into my pocket, meeting those eyes, “I told you before, not interested.” 

He swallows thickly, shifting where he stands, “You’re lying. I saw your boner in class just now. You like me. I like you. Stop making it complicated.” 

“Eren.” Standing I maintaining the blatant eye contact, “You don’t know what you’re trying to chase after, I’m not someone you want involved with in the way you think you do. Drop this, I’ll see you Wednesday.” 

Wetting his lips he steps around the desk, dangerously close to me, his eyes locked on mine as he reaches up, placing two fingers on my neck, right below the jaw. Breathing catching, muscles tighten as I bite my tongue, about to slap his hand away but his voice stops me, “Your eyes are dilated.” He comments, “Heart rate elevated, breathing irregular. Either you’re afraid of me, or you’re into me and I don’t think you’re the type of guy who scares easily.” 

Brushing his hand away I take a step back, “Who the fuck do you think you are?” I demand, “I said no, brat, comprehend the word and get the fuck out of my classroom.” 

He frowns, “…I’m sorry.” 

“Too late for apologies now, I have work to do. Go.” 

“I am sorry!”

Shrugging I lift the cig back to my lips, clicking the button to get what I need, “Congrat-u-fucking-lations, he knows what ‘no’ means. I should applaud you. As you leave.” 

Exhaling, a gentle smile pulls his lips, his head titling to the side as a gentle laugh sounds. My chest tightens a bit. “Alright, alright.” He raises a hand as if signaling a truce, “Have a good evening, Levi.” 

Nodding, I sit back down, picking up the pile of paintings on the desk, meeting his stare once more, “Have a good evening, Eren.” 

Smiling broadly his hand tightens on the strap slung over his shoulder, that one movement of his expression brightening it immensely, that pressure in my chest constricting more. Reluctantly, he finally meanders towards the door, lingering in it for a brief moment, glancing over his shoulder, that damned smile still on his lips, “You look handsome today. The suit is sexy, but not as sexy as that leather jacket you always wear into the café.” 

The door clicks shut behind him, his footsteps faintly echo in the halls, filling the atmosphere with the sound, the scent of his cologne still hanging in the air. So he finds that old jacket sexy. Interesting.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Makeup sex, Sasha flirts, in class phone calls and Eren goes home with Levi. Oh my~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This came out a LOT longer than intended, but I wanted to build it up a bit, plus introduce Hange for later instead of having her come in later and BAM give you guys a Hange. Plus a few have asked about Levi's tattoos, so I thought I'd explain those a bit better, but later they come back in a more symbolic way. You'll see~
> 
> I had a lot of fun writing this, actually, Levi and Eren have a lot of interaction, plus Hange's call and Petra's weirdness, which will make sense later, trust me. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and I really appreciate all who have taken their time to leave comments, they really help me as a writer to let me know what's working and what's not. 
> 
> Comments much loved <3

Petra cancelled dinner; she had other plans in mind- plans that involved me naked in in her hotel bed. This more adventurous side of her was undoubtedly arousing; there was no doubt about that. However, that damned brat kept my mind fairly occupied as of late, and I had spent the time I should’ve used to pre-evaluate paintings done by the class to draw Eren over and over in the sketchbook I kept in my briefcase. I had to draw that smile he gave me before leaving, they were burned into my mind, the way his eyes lit up, how the muscles pulled his face into such a lovely expression, I’m sure if the ancient masters were alive, Eren could easily become an iconic piece of art. 

Staring up at the ceiling, I inhale a lungful of smoke, exhaling it between my teeth. Beside me, Petra rolls over onto her side, yawning as she plucks the cigarette from my fingers, “Do you have to do that in here? This isn’t a smoking room.” 

“Oi. Give it back.” I mumble, capturing her lips in a kiss, lighting pinching her breast, gaining a soft, excited squeal, which resulted in the light back in my hand. 

Giggling she lays her head on my chest, kissing on my collarbone, her finger tracing the dragon tattoo that decorated a good part of my upper arm and spilled out onto my right collarbone. Her gentle breath tickles my skin as she starts to kiss on the tattoos, starting with the dark green dragon, then going to the two magnolias, the Japanese style waves, the geometric patterns that transitioned to the stain glass biblical scene of Lucifer falling from grace that gradually became shattered glass with an Albert Camus quote from The Stranger printed underneath that which trickled onto the back of the right hand. And on the lower third regions of my fingers was the word ‘slave’ broken up letter by letter, the ‘S’ was on my thumb and the ‘E’ on my pinky. People tended to take that one the wrong way, so silver rings kept those tattoos covered. 

Tracing the magnolias lazily she places another kiss on my chest, “Usually I hate tattoos, but yours are beautiful, Levi.” 

“Thank you.” I reply, nudging her off me, sitting upright to claim the last inhale of the cigarette before extinguishing it. Shifting, I bend over, taking my boxers and trousers off the floor of the hotel room; Lord only knows what kind of disgusting bacteria is on them now. 

“Where are you going?” Petra coos, rolling onto her stomach, rubbing my lower back, “Stay for a bit longer. Please?”

“I can’t.” I sigh, standing upright to tuck in my shirt, kneeling to gather the jacket to my suit, “There was a meeting that held me up after class, I have a lot of work to grade, plus I have another class tomorrow.”

Frowning, she stands on her knees, reaching out to pull me against her, joining our lips together for a deep kiss. Her lips loiter centimeters before mine, and usually that would drive me insane, but now it hardly warranted a reaction. Hands cupping my face she rests her forehead against mine, “My flight out of here is tomorrow at two…no more strippers, Levi. I’ll be back in November to see my father for Thanksgiving.” 

Nodding, I kiss her forehead, “Sleep well, have a safe flight.” 

She smiles up at me, turning her head to steal my lips again, taking kiss after kiss, reaching up to play with the shaven hair of my undercut, “Goodnight, Levi.”

“Goodnight.” 

…

The greatest thing about modern technology being integrated into classrooms is the sound systems. That I can pull up my Pandora radio and play it through the four speakers strategically placed all over the room, and there’s not a damned thing any of these brats can do about it. But judging by the early arriver’s expressions, they certainly didn’t seem to mind my choice of Red Hot Chili Peppers. 

Reclined before the computer, the vapor cigarette was to my lips, inhaling and exhaling the artificial smoke, floating around me as I check the professor’s messages. Thankfully, there wouldn’t be any extra meetings this week, I hated the meetings, despite knowing most of the staff by now, they still gave me looks of disapproval once they spotted the tattoo on my neck, or the stud and hoop earrings in my ears and certainly a brow or two went up if I rolled up my sleeves to show the permanent one on my right arm. 

But, in the comfort of my temporary classroom, I can roll up my sleeves all I want. My eyes shift to the clock at the upper right hand part of the screen, it was five minutes past the allotted class time and everyone but Jaeger was here. Well, after our last conversation, we’re not exactly in the best relationship status right now, I wouldn’t blame him for not showing up to class. Plus, based on my extensive research on him through the school system’s history of his past classes, I don’t think an inorganic chemistry major is too worried about his fine art elective. 

A ping sounds from the computer indicating an email, it was from a Bertholdt Hoover in my Tuesday and Thursday class explaining why he’d be absent Thursday and wanted to know if I could give his piece to his friend who had my class today. Replying to the email, I check the time, it was already fifteen minutes after, and the students were working on their pre-evaluations explaining the choices they made up until this point. Claiming more of the vapor, I hit send, hearing the door open, gasping breaths of Eren as he struggles to get his messenger bag back over his shoulder. 

“You sure you want to stay?” I ask, the nerves of him being near me causing me to grab the e-cig again, “You’re already technically absent.”

He nods, determination in his eyes, “I’m sure, sir. My roommate turned off the alarm clock, I overslept.” 

“This is a two o’clock class.”

Smirking he shrugs before making a beeline to his usual desk, loudly arranging himself behind it. Doing my best to ignore that brat, I pull up the syllabus, displaying it on the overhead projector then pause the music I had playing. This gets their attention, all twenty or so pairs of eyes lock on me as I assume my usual position behind the desk, the stack of their half done projects on display. 

“Alright, so as I said last class, your pre-evaluations are finished, and I’ve got to say, out of all the classes I’ve subbed in for in my nine months in Chicago, you guys are the worst.” A crowd of darkened expressions greets me as I cross my arms, “I’m telling it how it is. No sugar coating. These paintings are not due for another week, but damn, I almost want to give you all another week on top of that to give you the chance to pass.” 

Eren’s slow sinking into his seat coupled with his pursed frown catches my eye as a finger directs their attentions to the screen above my head, “You guys really need to learn time management, I get that this is a required elective, but honestly, your precious GPAs will be greatly effected if I don't see better work.” Picking up the stack of half down paintings, I enter the small sea of young adults, having learnt their faces well enough from the role call to return the pieces to the proper owner, “Some of you have notes to see me after class or to make a personal appointment, I recommend you do so.”

One of the girls that kept eye raping me from last class props her face on her hand, making a face at the lack of response on her work, “Crap, I was really hoping I did a bad enough job to see you, Levi.”

Cutting her a look, I set the last one on Eren’s desk, not pleased, “If I hear another borderline flirtatious remark from you, Ms. Braus, I will have a conference arranged between you, the dean and I, is that understood?”

A few giggle, one girl shakes her head, “Seriously, Sasha, what happened to Connie? Or are you two not a thing?” 

Braus shrugs, reaching into her bag, pulling out a bag of M&M’s, “We’re more platonic if anything. Plus, it’s not everyday you get that,” she points at me with the unopened bag, “, as your professor.” 

“Strike one.” I warn her, leaving Eren’s desk, sitting behind my own, “If you need help during this studio class please come up and ask for it, otherwise I’ll be playing my own choice of music and working, you’re welcome to use your headphones.” 

Clicking back on the Pandora Radio site, the track had changed from Chili Peppers to Beck, the nonchalant rhythm of Loser drifting through the speakers. Glancing over the computer screen, I steal a brief glance to Eren, who had his impossibly large eyes already trained on me. He smirks back, biting the end of his pencil more, causing my heart to jump. Damn that kid. Directing my attention to the screen once more, I scroll through the multiple emails piled up in the teacher’s inbox; three sent from the professor I was subbing for, desperately wanting to know how her class was going. 

Only three sentences in yet another written soliloquy on how well behaved yet lacking in artistic ability her class was, the phone beside me starts to vibrate aggressively. Hange’s obnoxious, beaming face installs a faint nauseous sensation in my stomach. She never called me between her office hours, which last time I checked her schedule, she should be in the office. 

Hesitantly, I jab a thumb to the green circle, lifting the phone to my ear, “Yeah.” 

“Levi.” She was out of breath; I could see her glasses slightly askew and messy hair now, “Hey. How…how are you?” 

“Cut the crap, I know you didn’t call me just to say hi.” 

“But what if I did?” 

“Then I’d ask if you were recreationally drinking Nyquil again. What do you want?” 

A long pause, papers were being shuffled on the other end, “…have you seen anyone from Atlanta lately?”   
“Atlanta? No, why?” 

“Kenny’s friend, the one that managed a lot of his finances, has been spotted in Chicago. Now I don’t know if you’ve been up to your old tricks since I last gave you that forged teaching license…” 

“I’ve been fine since then, maybe someone else fucked up, not my problem. I’ve  
been slowly but surely paying my dues. You or anyone else can go check my bank statements, everything’s finally starting to level out…” out of my peripheral I notice a few eyes drifting from their work to me, especially a large pair of blue green eyes that were almost always on my mind, “…one second.” 

Cupping the receiver I let out a quick whistle, “I’ve got to take this, I’ll be in the hallway if anyone starts a fire.” 

“You could since you’re so damn hot.” Braus smirks, a dumb grin testing her face and my tolerance. 

“Strike two.” 

“What happens after three?” 

Rolling my eyes I stalk out into the hallway, “Sorry about that. So what, Kenny’s fucktards are tracking me down to get back his blood money? We had an agreement, that anonymous benefactor said in his disclosure statement that…” 

“I know what it says, Levi.” She cuts me off, “I was there when he signed the papers. What I’m making sure is that you’re paying your dues, you know how you can be when it comes to the booze and the cigarettes.” 

“…I’ve worked them into the piss poor budget you’re prescribed for me. Since bail, I’ve been a good boy, just like I swore before leaving that hellhole. If Kenny’s friends are in town, maybe they’re here to enjoy the fucking cold, it’s quite lovely this time of year.” 

A soft chuckle comes from her end as she sighs, “Well, I’m not too happy with it, and considering all of the enemies you’ve made over the years, I’d rather be in Chicago with you to make sure my favorite little Ravioli is safe and sound.” 

“Please stop calling me that.” 

“So I applied for a job transfer.” 

“Goddamn it, Hange.” 

“Don’t worry, I can still do my job in Chicago, hell it might even be easier! A lot of my other clients are in Chicago too; I even have one in Nebraska! I’ve never been to Nebraska…” 

“…that’s nice. As much as I’d love to hear about the places you have and haven’t been, I have to get back to this really neat place called my job.” 

“Oh yeah, you have one of those now. The legal kind!” Hange laughs, “What’s it like being a citizen of the law?” 

“Vaguely terrifying. But at least it’s not a white collar job in a cubicle.” 

“Or a stripper.” 

“…or a stripper. Are you done?” 

“When I get to Chicago, can you help me move in? You’re always so good with organizing my stuff, it looks like an IKEA catalogue when you’re through with it.” 

She was procrastinating, whatever the hell she was doing she wasn’t happy with it and probably lied to her boss that she had to make an out of state meeting call. 

“Maybe, but I don’t see a point in organizing your shit if you’re just going to fuck it up in a week.” 

“I swear I won’t get the cat stuck in the vase again.” 

Again.

“I’m sure. Bye Hange.” 

“I’ll be there Monday!” she quips before I kill the call, slipping the phone back into my pocket.

That woman will be the death of me, and when I say that I mean it with every fiber of my being. She’s psychotic and neurotic, but has a good business sense coupled with a knack for uncovering hidden artists. Her job was to exploit talent to obtain profit for her, the company as well as the talent. From a fatal meeting in St. Louis she stole my sketchbook, liking what she saw and refused to give it back until I gave her my number, since then she’s been my agent and somehow my friend. Part of me wondered if I was a masochist since I allowed the friendship to last this long. 

Entering the classroom again, I see that the call lasted longer than I wanted it to. Reclaiming my seat, I get back to work, avidly replying to emails and inquiries to if I needed anything for my class, sent out the attendance, even marking Jaeger present. The usual shuffling of students packing indicates the ending of the class period. A few start to trickle out of the classroom, smiling and waving goodbye. I give them a whisper of a smile back, some I even lift a hand to. Within fifteen minutes or so, the room is empty, save for Eren. 

“I see you read my notes.” I remark, finishing up the last email.

“I did.” He replies as I hit send, standing up I take a drag, our eyes interlocking instantaneously. 

“Care to explain?” I ask, walking to stand before his desk, sitting on the one in front of it, “Your past professor has written in her notes on you that you’ve put great effort into your work, yet when I looked over it last night, it showed the opposite of that.” 

He shrugs, eyes glancing down to the portrait on the desk, “I’m just not good with this art stuff, I’m a chem major, not a painter.” 

“You show potential in your work, Eren, you don’t completely suck. Why don’t you apply yourself?” 

“Because I have other work to do, I’m not an artist.” His voice was drifting a bit, judging by the path his eyes were making from my hand and upward, he was exploring my body best he could, but stopped once he reached my neck. 

Exhaling smoke from my mouth, I set the cig on his desk, picking up his portrait, “You’d be surprised what this can be applied to.” I inform him, holding the piece at arm’s length, good god this kid did not know how to use a color wheel properly, “Your proportions are very off, you have big eyes Eren, but not that big. The shading is shitty, I’ve watched you work on this in class, yet it looks like you did this in minutes.” Taking each top corner I shred the piece into fours, “Redo it.” 

His eyes widen to the near cartoon size he portrayed in the painting. Bolting upright, fists balled at his side his stature trembles slightly, “What the hell it wasn't even close to being finished!” Gritting his teeth it was clear he wanted to say more, but knew better, “Besides the shading what else was the problem?!”

Giving him the pieces I meet those infuriated eyes, "The proportions, the composition, the craftsmanship was sloppy and the rubric clearly said a triad color scheme not whatever the fuck you made up in your choice of colors.”, walking to the drawers containing the large, nice sheets of drawing paper, I pull another out for him, “Stop using acrylics, watercolor is going to work best for you. I have some at home. I know you're on financial aid you can borrow them.”

Roughly taking the paper from me he fights the urge to crumple it in his hands, “So you’ve been stalking me too, huh?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, we’re given notice of those on scholarship and welfare.” 

“I’m not on welfare.” He snaps angrily. 

“You’re on financial aid, the school classifies it as a form of welfare. But judging from your Abercrombie jackets, Hollister jeans and annoying scent of what I can only guess to be Ralph Lauren cologne, I’d say you have enough money to live comfortably.” I reply, crossing my arms, “Trust me, you’re going to want to borrow the watercolors, they’re nice.” 

Setting the new paper down, he walks to the door, dropping the shredded painting into the trash, “So what now? I use your fancy paints to make dull colors?”

“I want you to use what is listed in the rubric. And not match orange with lime green ever again or I'll do more than rip your project.” Stalling by his desk, I tap the paper, “This is the best type to use for water color, the colors won't bleed or blot badly. And it holds water fairly well.” 

“You’re a lot more attractive when you’re not shredding my homework.” He grumbles, standing beside me, hands in his pockets, staring down at the paper, “Which you shouldn’t have even done, I wasn’t finished with it.” 

“That thing didn’t need to be finished.” I scoff, “I'd suggest you shut up and listen to what I have to say. Now do you want those paints, I don't live too far from here, I could give them to you so you can work over the weekend.” 

It didn’t take Charles Xavier to know what that kid was thinking at the mention of coming to my home. Acting as if he were still upset with me, he carefully rolls up the paper, slipping it into his messenger bag, “Okay.” 

Back behind the desk, I exit out of Safari, silencing Kansas’ only good single. Doing my best to ignore Eren watching me pack up my briefcase, I snap it shut then slip on that leather coat I heard he liked so much. Zipping it to my mid-chest I hold the briefcase, key to the classroom in hand, “After you, Princess.” I gesture to the door.

He cuts me a suppressed smirk then leaves, eyes still trained on me as I lock the door. Once outside I loiter a moment to light up, hiding the silver lighter Hange got me for my birthday last year into my coat pocket, “I’m about ten blocks away.”

Starting the cigarette, it wasn’t long before the brat made a comment, “You smoke a lot.” 

“Do I?” I mutter, not particularly caring.

“Does it taste good?” he asks, a tone of mockery on his words, “My mom says it tastes good, helps calm her nerves, she’d needed it since my dad left. I hope you don’t get cancer like she did.” 

Frowning I glance up at him, “Don’t.” 

He shrugs, “She recovered fine, chemo didn’t kill her or anything, neither did the cancer, thank god, but we have a ton of left over medical bills. That’s why I’m on financial aid. I’m not super smart like my sister, so she goes to school free, mom still has to pay a good chunk of my tuition.” 

I take a deeper drag than intended, almost choking. Eren really knew how to strike up small talk, “You know, normal people talk about the weather or some shit when walking with someone they hardly know.” 

A short laugh escapes him, “Something tells me if I started talking about the weather, you’d tell me to shut up or push me out into traffic.” 

Struggling not to smile, I hide it behind the cigarette, “Traffic would be a bad idea…too many witnesses.” 

Another laugh, longer this time, “You’re awful!”

A rare smile takes hold, “Guilty as charged.” 

“Keep that up and you’ll be charged for manslaughter!”

“Brat-slaughter, know your terminology.” 

He playfully swats my shoulder, “Stop calling me a brat, old man! I’m fucking twenty!” 

“Could’ve fooled me.” I mutter, guiding him to my building, unlocking the first door leading into the lobby. And who was he calling old man?!

Walking to the elevator, I hit the proper button, the doors open immediately, and the two of us enter. He leans on the interior railings, head turning around in all directions as he observes his surroundings like a five-year-old while I press the button to the sixth floor. The doors part once again, as if on cue my phone goes off. Sighing, I take the cigarette from my mouth, answering it, “Hello?” 

“Hey, Levi.” Petra greets, mischief on her tone, “What…what are you doing?” 

“About to enter my apartment, why?” I ask, taking a left down the hall, “Wait, shouldn’t you be on a plane right now?” 

“Yeah, but the flight was delayed until later tonight, eleven…I was thinking maybe I could come over and we could have one last go.” She offers.

“I can’t, too much work.” 

“Too much work for sex? That doesn’t sound like you, Levi.” She pouts, “Come on, I’ve already ordered a cab to come to your place, it’ll be our last time for awhile.”

Unlocking my door I hold it open for Eren, “Listen, I’m with a student right now, just buy a harlequin novel and find a comfortable bathroom stall, pretend the pirate or whatever is me.” 

A long pause on the other end, never a good sign, “What’s her name?” 

“Excuse me?” 

“I can’t believe you, I’m out of town for a few hours, but not really because I’m just at the airport and you’re with your student. Real classy, Levi.” She hisses over the line. 

Extinguishing the cig in an ashtray by the door I rub my forehead, stepping to the side to let Eren shut the door, “No, you’ve got it wrong, I’m with a boy and I’m loaning him paint for his project.” 

A fake laugh, “Sure. This is probably just a repeat of that blond girl six months ago.” 

Stiffening I bite back harsh words, “Don’t throw that back in my face, you know it wasn’t like that!”

“Have fun with your student.” She snaps back, “Or stripper, whatever the hell it is you take comfort in when I’m gone.” 

Running a hand through my hair I close my eyes, “You didn’t sleep last night did you? You always get like this when you’re sleep deprived. Are you on your period?” 

The dial tone answers my questions. 

Placing the phone in my back pocket I give Eren a slightly apologetic half smile, shedding my coat and jacket to my two-piece casual suit, “Don’t date women, Eren, they’re a mess.” 

He smiles at me, standing in that uncomfortable guests do in fear or dirtying a scary clean loft, “Having a stalking sister is already bad enough. I'm good with being gay.” 

At least he was honest with himself on that note. Laying the coat and jacket on one of the stools by he kitchen island, I open the fridge, “Yeah, well, be thankful for that, boys typically are less hassle than girls. Unless they're really gay boys. Then that's just a girl with a penis and nice hair.” setting a beer on the counter I tap the fridge door, “You want anything?” 

A smirk brightens his face, “You.” 

“Cute.” I reply, taking out bottled water, handing it to him.

Expecting another cocky remark, I wander into the living room of the loft, for a place for a grand a month; it was fairly large for a one bedroom one bath. The living room was huge, with floor to ceiling windows overlooking a shitty community garden and the backside of buildings the tourist photos of Chicago didn’t want you to see. But with the dark hardwood floors, pale white-blue walls and calming colors, it came together for a peaceful workspace. There was a white brick fireplace that sort of worked half of the time, in front of that was black leather couches I stole from Kenny’s office from when I got out of prison. Not like he’d need them from his Nevada cell. Through the wonders of Target I had gotten black and metal end tables and a matching coffee table with a thick book on ancient Rome and a few magazines I forgot to read. The apartment was fairly bare, I liked it that way, it was clean and simple. 

Clean aside from my little pile of art supplies on a metal and glass desk in the corner. There was a black stool with a plush leather stool cushion for when I painted, set up before an easel. Beside the easel were the few paintings I had done of a naked Petra, Eren’s eyes were fixated on them, his stance tensing a bit. Was he seriously jealous of them? 

Setting my beer on the glass desk, I rifle through a few materials, finding my watercolors. Holding them out to him I place the package in his hand, “Here, they’re from China, please be careful with them.” 

Nodding he claims a sip of water, flipping it over to read the back, “Cool. I’ll be sure not to mess them up.” 

Sitting on the stool I lift the beer to my lips, savoring its organic taste or a moment, lost in the beauty of the golden lighting shrouding Eren from where he stands. Sensing my rude staring, his eyes raise to meet mine again, brows furrowing slightly, dear god they were stunning, more than stunning, indescribably beautiful and they were standing in my loft. He was standing in my loft, the boy I craved to paint so long. I refused to try to color any sketches I had done of him, even though I had this brilliant, vibrant pool of colors trapped in my mind, nothing could compare to having that person right before me, with my paints an arm’s reach away. 

“Stay.” I whisper, reaching out to take back the watercolors, setting them down on the floor, “Stay right there, and don’t move.” 

Confused, he wets his lips, somehow reddening their already mesmerizing pale pink hue, “Yes, Levi.”


	7. EREN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Eren's POV, he poses for Levi's spontaneous portrait and accepts an offer from the man he's slowly falling for that he cannot refuse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a few requests for Eren's POV and this seemed like a good place to do this at. This ended up a LOT longer than I meant, but hey, I'm super happy with how it turned out. :) I really like writing from Eren's POV, plus I just love writing Armin's character. That beautiful coconut.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! 
> 
> Comments and feedback much loved <3

I’m not sure how long I stood there, or if I stood there for very long at all. The only thing that kept me glued to that place on the floor was he, Levi Rivialle. Something gripped him in that moment, I’m not quite sure what, one moment he was lending me fancy watercolors the next his voice dropped to this low, seductive whisper. Speaking in something between a command and a plea, his voice trapped me in the middle of his small living room. 

He transformed into a mad man behind his easel; the long part of his undercut was messily hiding his narrow, slanted eyes. On the way in he had shrugged off his leather coat and suit jacket, leaving him in a dark blue button up, which was now becoming increasingly stained. In haste he had rolled up his sleeved to his elbows, exposing part of an insanely intricate tattoo sleeve on his right arm. Some sort of elegant geometric design took up most of the skin, but faded into some sort of Biblical depiction. My mother never really raised my adopted sister or I in church, one could only imagine what the depiction meant to a man like Levi. 

His tongue slowly darts from his thin lips, wetting the bottom one before the top row of teeth take it, sinking into the flesh as his thin brows knit together in thought. Again, those cold blue eyes meet my own, sending the familiar rush or adrenaline throughout my body, the shock stronger than it usually is. Normally I’ve seen him clothed in multiple layers, be it in the café or in class, it’s rare I see more than his bare hands, neck and face, but now he had a slightly scruffy appearance and that undercut of his was messy and in those chilling eyes forcing me to gaze at his lips, his defined jaw and strong nose. He was hot, undeniably so, and judging by the way he struts around the fucking school he is well aware just how attractive he is. That level of attraction that burns in my blood only boils at the sight of him indulged in his work, his paintbrushes working at an unimaginable speed. 

The soft shatter of one falling to the hardwood sounds, a pale blue splattering the surface as his gently labored breathing fills the air. Reaching up to his forehead, he moves some of his hair out of the way, streaking pale skin with the same color that now stained the flooring. Wiping a paint infested hand on the front of his shirt, he sets the paints down, stepping back from the canvass, eyes locking on mine, causing me to stiffen a bit. 

“Want to look at it?” he asks, wetting his lips again, I wanted to kiss them. 

Curious as to what he spent so much energy on, I walk to stand beside him, the scent of him drawing an unwanted reaction from me. He smelt incredible, as did his house, but a specific scent came from him, it was like leather, rich leather and some sort of cologne and the spice of cleaning supplies. Which gauging from the state of his impeccable home, I wouldn’t put it past this guy to bathe in Windex. He takes a drink, sitting on a metal stool, crossing his arms squinting at the painting he had just done of me. 

It was stunning to say in the least, in all honesty my vocabulary isn’t that expansive and there’s no word I can even fathom to exist to describe how beautiful this man’s work is. The colors were vibrant, but not overly so, the focus was on my stupid eyes, large and a beautiful collection of endless hues and shades all expertly grouped together, making them look like some sort of rare gemstone and not like eyes at all. He was dead on with the shade of my skin, tan but not overly so with dark brown hair, thick eyebrows and a baby face with some signs of maturity shining through. Unfortunately, I took mostly after my mother, who of course is a woman, leaving me with more than a few feminine features. My expression was relaxed, a trace of a smirk on my lips as I bared my eyes into the viewers soul, it looked like I was about to smirk, but refrained myself from doing so. Levi had been so kind as to not paint my Abercrombie long sleeved polo and had opted to imagine what I looked like naked from a few inches below my collarbone and up. Not much skin was exposed, but I couldn’t help but fight a blush at the realization that this man had imagined what my naked body looked like. For the background, he replicated the pale blue walls behind me, but blurred it, as one would be able to do with a powerful lens on an equally powerful camera. The piece looked like modern photography and the great artists of the ancient world had somehow come together to replicate me of all people on this canvass. He was truly an artist in every sense of the word, he was beautiful to me, and his work was just as alluring if not more so. 

“…where’s my shirt?”

Of all the fucking things to say, I had to say that. Good job, Eren.

His cool eyes cut to me, furrowed in some form of annoyance, “On you, obviously, but excuse me for not wanting to paint some shitty polo.” 

“Do you always paint people naked?”

Shaking his head he sips his water again, “Not always, but I hate modern clothing in paintings, so I usually stick with sheets or simple clothing, or just have the model naked.” 

Throat tightening, I cannot help but wonder if he would ever want to use me as a model again, the thought of being naked in front of him thrilled me. Just imagining what it would be like to have him staring at my nude body was exhilarating, because it could possibly lead to him touching, or liking what he saw beyond an artist’s appreciation. 

A groan passes his lips, he was silently scolding himself, I could tell by his expression as he pinched his shirt, frowning at it, “Damn…these stains will never come out…” he gives me an apologetic nod, standing up, walking to a door right off the kitchen area, “Excuse me a moment.” He calls, without warning, puling his shirt off, whipping it in the air, examining it as he opens the door. 

Dear God, as if he wasn’t hot enough with clothes on, but topless…the man was a god. A tattooed, scarred god. He was surprisingly thick, more than one would think just by looking at him. His neck was fairly heavy, you could tell that he had a good amount of muscle on him, but seeing it was another experience entirely. Levi’s shoulders were broad, bulked with muscle, tapering down to well-sculpted abs; six pack V-lines, some definition by his ribcage, the whole nine yards. When he turned away from me, some of his spine was visible when he bent down to get laundry detergent, as was the band of his Calvin Klein underwear and the dimples on his lower back. 

It took every fiber of my being to keep me in place and not to wrap my arms around him, feel his muscles, kiss on his neck, look at his tattoos closer. I knew the second I saw him in Maria Café that I wanted him, and seeing him half naked in the comfort of his home, I knew I needed him. 

He went into another room, sneaking a look inside I could see a perfectly made bed and his closet door open. Strange to think men like him slept, he was so intense it was hard to think he would relax enough to the point of sleep. Emerging he whips out a white shirt, checking it for wrinkles before slipping it on, hiding his body and a majority of his beautiful tattoos. 

“I like your tattoos.” I smile, sitting on the stool he once sat at, “They’re really pretty, unique.” 

He shrugs, glancing to his arm as if discovering the art permanently on his skin, “Thanks.” He mutters, “Took ten sessions over the span of five years, turned out alright. I haven’t wanted to cut off my arm or anything.” 

I nod, “They suit you really well.” 

Ignoring my comment he picks up his water again, “I really like how this turned out… your eyes are stunning, and large, I wanted them to be the focus, they're why I wanted to paint you in the first place.” he gestures to the background, “That's why I kept the background so simple, and I kept the colors of your eyes richer than the rest.”

His words made perfect sense coming from an artist, which he truly was one, I could tell by the way his eyes flickered, silently judging his work, he didn’t understand just how talented he was. However, the unmistakable sinking of the heart sunk into my chest, probably settling atop my digestive track, he was attracted to my eyes. I wish he were attracted to anything but my eyes, that’s all anyone’s attracted to. 

“It happens. That's what people see me as anyway. A big memorizing eyes.” I frown, it was clear that Levi was only being nice because he wanted this painting. Bending over, I retrieve the paints he had set on the floor, putting on my best polite smile, “Thanks for the water color paints. I'll redo the painting making it plain as possible.” 

“Do you think my painting is plain, Eren?” he asks, expression stolid.

He is so severe, I’m sure he comes off as terrifying to most, “No your painting isn't. But the scheme project sounds like it has to deal with light colors…plus you didn’t like the brighter colors I used before so…” 

“You've not an artist, are you Eren." he says almost dully, his head barely moves as his gaze sizes me up, “How about you come here for extra credit sessions? You model for me, let me paint you, and I'll grade your projects on a curve, make sure you have a high enough grade to maintain your GPA.” 

Stiffening the hold on the paints tightens, the cardboard covering crumbling under the pressure. This seemed too good to be true, to have this man ask me to come back to his home and pose for him. To have his attention focuses on me and me alone. Yes, he was asking me to whore out my body so he could paint it for whatever personal gain he had. But as I watch him claim another mouthful of water and start to try to light a cigarette, I knew no matter how hard I would try to talk myself out of this proposition, I would take it. I wanted him, desperately; I’d take any form of him no matter the cost. 

“I’ll take it.” I answer, rubbing the back of my neck, “Like you said, I’m no artist, I could use the extra credit.” 

Lifting the burning cigarette to his lips he inhales, his pecks pressing against the nearly see-through shirt enough for me to make out the outline of the muscles, “…it’s a strange thing to ask my student.” He admits, his voice reduced to this sexy, low growl, “And if that makes your uncomfortable, I understand.” 

“You don’t make my uncomfortable.” 

Smoke unfurls in a quick blast from between his lips, filling the air between us with a scent I would typically find disgusting, but somehow it smelt good around him, “I know.” He murmurs, the tip of his thumb toying with the cig, “That worries me.” 

“Why?” 

Saying nothing, he inhales again, carefully exhaling, tapping out his ashes into his drink, “I get off from work at five, we’ll meet here tomorrow at five thirty. Does that work for your schedule?” 

Shit, I had Intro to Chemistry at five, but how the fuck could I sit in class memorizing the Periodic Table when I could be here with Levi? 

“Yeah, that works fine.” I reply as casually as one possibly could when being asked to model by the very person that totally consumed my thoughts. 

His chilling eyes stare me down for a moment, smoke still lingering in the air between us, a wispy tendril unfurling from the burning tobacco, “You’re very handsome Eren.” His voice low, tender and went straight to my heart, gripping between my legs and forcing a lump in my throat. He acted like he had no idea what he did to me, but the words he spoke said otherwise. “I know it's a strange extra credit assignment to ask of my student,” he confesses, “, but as an artist I appreciate beautiful things and beautiful people and I want to capture that.” 

“I understand.”

A trace of a smile tempted his lips, but the burning tobacco stops that, “Five thirty.” 

“Five thirty.”

…

The dorms never seemed more far away than they did on my way from Levi’s. I needed a shower desperately and to look up a YouTube tutorial on how to un-wrinkle cardboard. Levi didn’t seem like the type of man who would be pleased to see the covering of his fancy watercolors crumpled from sexual frustration. Honestly, it’s his own damn fault for sashaying around his apartment half naked in front of me, he’s lucky I didn’t just pin him to the wall, kiss him and… 

My breath inhales sharply as I walk up the steps to the dormitory, pulling out my ID to swipe it and enter. Only up a few flights of stairs, send a brief prayer to the sex gods that Armin was in the library as usual and I could take my shower. Skipping steps as I ascend to my floor, I fight to suppress the fantasies running rampant of my mind, almost having half a mind to run straight back to that man’s apartment and refuse to take no for an answer. Never have I ever wanted to touch someone, be near someone as horribly as I do my art professor. His cruel eyes stared back at me every time I closed mine, I imagined how his hands would feel on my body, how his lips would feel against mine. 

Unlocking the room, the bag on my shoulder tumbles to the floor, the paints dropping atop that. Glancing around I see no one inside, Armin’s perfectly made side of the room looking like a display dorm room, while my side was a painful reminder that it was not with messy sheets and clothes scattered atop empty xBox game cases. Kicking off my shoes on my area, I strip off my shirt, entering the bathroom I shared with Armin. Door shut behind me, hands rush to litter the fake tile with ‘stupid Abercrombie clothes’ as Levi said earlier. 

Stepping inside the shower, I turn it to a warm temperature, letting the artificial rain pour over my body, a haze of steam surrounding me. Eyes closed, I lean back against the warming tile lining, running a hand down my chest, tingles of arousal spreading its disease throughout my nether regions. It swells inside me, consuming my mind and body in a steady erosion as that hand grasps the erect member, starting to teasingly stroke it. 

A muted groan escapes my lips as my head tilts back, muscles quivering as I struggle to stay upright. I imagined that he were here with me, pinning me to the wall with one arm, the tattooed one pumping my member, flickering his thumb over the head, tracing the slit. He would exhale in my ear, place a rough kiss on my neck and murmur my name in a chastising manner. The long part of his undercut would be starting to gather water, probably in his eyes, guiding mine to his jaw, nose and lips. I would want to kiss him, but he would force me to endure this without his sweet taste. 

“Eren…” he would murmur, nipping my ear, pinching my nipple, “You’re so handsome…” 

Those words from another’s mouth would mean nothing to me, but they came from his, and that alone was enough. His hand would continue to stroke my length, the other hand leaving my chest to grip my balls, then tracing the rim of my entrance. That teasing hand would then trace my lips, and I would eagerly suckle on his fingers, even the rings he always wore, more than ready for what he meant to do. Those fingers would be back at my entrance, gaining entry. 

“Moan my name.” he would rasp, a finger beckoning me to do so, drawing a ragged moan from my throat. As a reward, he would kiss me on the chin then throat, “Good…very good…” 

His hands would continue to work, pushing my mind and body further and further into ecstasy. That finger would double, the team suddenly finding that one spot. He knew he found it, in this shower he had found it the night he walked into Café Maria. 

“Come for me.” His voice would command. 

The body he had complete control of would comply, fervent to please him, releasing into his hand, blinding me with a white hot pleasure, a loud moan ripping my throat, choking me from the steam. That heat faded, revealing the shower with only one occupant, that boy breathing labored against the wall, drenched in sweat and water. 

A tentative knock sounds from the other side of the door, “Eren?” Armin’s shy voice croaks, “Are you having sex in there?”

“God damn it, Armin, no, I’m not having sex!” I snap back, rinsing my hands and body, grabbing the body wash off the tiny shelf. 

Dead silence, I could see his blood red face and bright blue eyes as he realized what I had done. 

“…are you done?” he squeaks loudly, “I really have to pee, and Connie did that weird thing with the ketchup and honey in the bathroom again.” 

Fucking Connie. It’s a wonder that kid hadn’t been kicked out yet. Him and Sasha were the power couple of mischief and grand disappearing food acts. 

Quickly lathering myself in the wash and rinsing it off my skin I kill the shower, “One sec.” I shout back, stepping out of the shower and wrapping a towel around my waist, thank god the erection was gone. 

“Okay.” I exhale, pulling back the door to see Armin right in front of it, the exact shade I had predicted, “It’s all yours.” 

He gives me a smirk, exchanging places with me, leaning in the doorway for a moment, “You know…you don’t have to do that alone. I could…” 

“Go pee, Armin.” 

Face flushing his expression falls, the door slams in my face. Not wanting to discuss the matter further, I go to my small chest of drawers, quickly slipping into underwear and sweatpants before he could come out. Despite our breakup a few months ago, and his constant assuring me that everything was fine and that he had no feelings for me whatsoever, I knew he liked to catch peeks here and there. Not in a creepy manner, but it was evident enough for me to take refuge in the bathroom. 

Emerging from the bathroom, he dries his hands on his jeans, “So how was your day?” 

“Pretty good.” I shrug, slipping on a pale green shirt, “Can’t complain much, my art professor shredded my project, but he took me to his place for tutoring.” 

A frown and a long sigh come from him as he sits down on his bed, “Eren…you really need to let that crush with Professor Rivialle go.” 

“Why? He’s really attractive, Armin. And after this semester, he’s free game to me, he won’t be my professor any longer.” 

“He’s got lots of tattoos, and you can see holes in his ears from a few piercings. Plus he’s always smoking, you hate smoking.” 

Point taken. Arms cross over my chest as I sink onto the camping chair I had brought as opposed to our hard wooden stools, “Once we’re dating, I’ll convince him to stop.” 

“You sound like a daydreaming elementary schooler.” He replies stiffly, crossing his legs, “Plus, he’s really not a good guy, Eren. Yeah, he’s hot, and rough and everything you know you shouldn’t have, and that makes you jerk off in the shower, but…he’s not good for you. Trust me.” 

“Armin.” I didn’t want to bring this up, but I knew this was the reason; it was obvious he still had deep feelings for me, but I never really had the romantic attraction that he held for me. Yeah, he was sexy in his own way, and his body did satisfy me when we did have sex, but there was just something missing in the equation. Never could I find a definitive reason as to why, but I knew that it was bad enough to where it ate at me, and I had to cut it off. I saw him too much as a friend and only a friend. I liked how we were before we began kissing and taking off our clothes. Our friendship meant too much to me to ruin it on a bad breakup or me messing up. 

He knew me too well, the tone in my voice gave it away, “Seriously, don’t even…” 

“I know you still like me.” I blurt, “And that’s fine. It really is, all wounds heal differently. We’re friends, and I’m really happy that we are still as close as we used to be even with what’s happened between us. But that doesn’t mean you have to hate every guy that I start to like.” 

“Eren.” 

“No, listen. I know you ran off that guy from the bar before I met Levi. I see you trying to keep me single, and…man, it’s been two and a half months, we only dated for three. I’m ready to move on. Let me move on, I won’t be a douche about it, but…” 

“Eren!” he shouts, my body jolts from the decibel his voice suddenly reached. His large eyes scolding me, “It’s not about my feelings. My reason behind why you shouldn’t try to go after Levi isn’t because I’m still in love with you. Yeah, I still like you more than a friend, but I’m being a friend right now. Will you shut up and let me do that?” 

Swallowing thickly, I nod, guilt hardening in my chest. 

“I didn’t want to believe this when I first heard it, but, I made sure it was true…but…” he tugs on his sleeves, “…Professor Rivialle. He had sex with Annie last quarter. And recorded it.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> War flashbacks, painting session number two and Eren puts his foot in his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to post! I've been super super busy with school and moving! But at least it's a long chapter!
> 
> Thank you for reading! <3
> 
> Comments and feedback much loved!

“Stand up!” one man screams, blood dripping from the one on the ground’s face, even the guards were too afraid to step in, I could hear the crackling on their radios demanding backup, “Stand up, man! I’ve bet all I’ve got on you!”

“He’s not standing anytime soon.” I reply dully, kneeling beside my opponent, gripping a fistful of his inmate uniform, a pained groan slips from his mouth as his half awake eyes shift to me.

“You’re insane!” he rasps, spitting up blood and saliva, the mixture dribbles down his chin, “Fucking insane!”

“Says the rapist.” 

“Ackerman!” men from behind shout, their footsteps filing in, from the sound of it, there’s roughly five of them, “Step away from him now! Hands up!”

The rapist chuckles, left eye swelling from the impact of the recent fight, the agonized, frustrated cry of his buddy sounds, everyone knew this fight was over. What a sad day it was for the gym monkeys when the new shrimp beat up one of the toughest guys here. Not my problem, he tried to bend me over in the shower, no one bends me over in the fucking shower. 

“You think this is over?” he whispers, shifting under my grip, “The losing men on those bets are going to be after you.” Through a few deep coughs more blood surfaces, “I’ll be safe in the infirmary, no one will save you.” 

“Step away, hands up, Ackerman!”

Perhaps I didn’t fully think this through. Maybe I reacted too rashly, but things escalate so quickly in prison, one minute a guy is sweeping the floor, the next he’s breaking the broom over someone’s head and trying to use the shards of wood or plastic to gouge out someone’s throat. This stunt would put me in some serious trouble once it got to the warden, probably some time outs, but nothing too bad. I hope.

“Ackerman! Last warning!”

Exhaling, I release the rapist slowly rising to my feet; hands raised just how they like. They narrowed eyes of the guards size me up for a moment before they rush me, one man each holding my wrist, keeping my hands apart so they could guide them behind my back and cuff me. Roughly, they escort me from the mess I’ve made, leading me into a tiny office I know all too well. One of multiple men in charge pushes aside his mundane paperwork, pig-like eyes shifting to me, his disgusting gaze grazing my body.

“Ackerman.” He breathes, nodding for them to sit me down on one of two chairs before his desk. My right hand is cuffed to the arm of the chair. “What was it this time?” 

“Assault.” One guard answers, “We’ll know the damage done soon enough.” 

He nods, beady eyes locked on me, instantly causing my skin to crawl, “Leave us, gentlemen. I’ll have a good talk with him.” 

Wordlessly, they leave; the door shuts as does my eyes. I hate this man, I’ve only been here a month, and he’s given me too many scars, emotionally and physically. Working in the drug trade with my uncle, I’ve dealt with men of all sorts, the good, bad and ugly. But no man could even match up to the one who owns that office. Every time I did something that would inevitably result for me to be cuffed to that chair, feeling his pudgy fists slam into my fist, chest, legs, I would ask myself if it were worth it.

He’d grip my face with one hand, force a kiss, slap me, and then start beating me again until I eventually passed out. And as I watched the stark grey walls fade to a dizzying black, I was always barely aware of what else he would do to my body, the only thought on my mind was how thankful I was that I was about to pass out. 

They wouldn’t let us sleep unless it was scheduled or if we were sick or dying.

“Levi?” 

That was a new voice, too young to be in a place like this. God I hope a voice that young didn’t belong to a place like this. Body numb, I start to feel it again, my   
throat was cotton, lips cracked, they probably were starving me again, and careful to make sure I didn’t even get water. 

“Hey, Levi.”

They sounded worried, weird; no one here gave to shits about me except Kenny. Weird bastard had the strangest way of showing love.

A hand brushes against my forehead; it was slightly cold, as if they were outside for a good part of the day. It felt nice. 

Slowly, my eyes peel open, the horrible memories that plagued me fading away, nights like those were usually why I drink myself to sleep, it is rare that alcohol doesn’t suppress what I want forgotten. Staring up at the ceiling the concerned face of Eren Jaeger looms over me, his beautiful tan skin, eyes, slightly mess hair. I wanted to…

No. Levi. He’s your student. Don’t you dare. 

“…how the fuck did you get in here?” 

He smiles, cupping a hand under my neck, guiding me to sit upright, helping me lean against the couch, “The door was unlocked, the doorman let me into the building. He recognized me from yesterday.” His large eyes linger on my body, around the neck and chest, a frown fights his gentle smile, “Have a fun night?”

Wetting my lips, I’m reminded of how badly I crave water, “…fun night?”

“You’ve got hickies.” He makes a gesture to his own neck and collarbone, “And lipstick.” 

Groaning, I force myself onto the couch, glad my pants and boxers were still on, at least I didn’t fuck. At least I don’t think I fucked. “Damn it…I paid her to make waffles and give me a lap dance…not leave marks.”

A chuckle sounds from the kitchen as he returns, handing me a wine glass full of water, “You ditched classes to pay someone to make waffles and…” his expression suddenly changes, eyes widen as he laughs, “You’re talking about a hooker?!”

Claiming a deep sip I nod, “Yeah, kid, I’m talking about a hooker.” 

“Do you do that often?” 

“What?” 

“Hire hookers?”

“Sometimes.” 

He nods, taking a seat beside me, his gaze locked on my naked chest. Clearly he enjoyed what he saw. I wonder if I ever had eyes like his, so deep, young and eternal. 

“…do you still want to do the painting today?” he asks, looking me in the eyes now, “I mean you look pretty…rough from last night. I understand if you want to reschedule.” 

Shaking my head I stand, scratching my abdomen, claiming another mouthful of water, “Nah, just give me a few to change and get some food. I’m not hung over, besides you’re already here, may as well make it worth your trip.” 

“How do you want me?” he calls from the couch as I refill the glass with water, digging through the pantry for a protein bar.

“The fuck you just say, Jaeger?”

He sighs, the couch complains as he shifts atop it, “How do you want me to model, pervert? What do you want me to do?”

Shutting the pantry door I set the glass on the counter, lingering in the doorway to my bedroom, “The Macarena while balancing a bowl of grapes on your head. Relax for a few, let me change.”

Hearing the kid make some sort of noise of I think to be approval, I enter the bedroom; eyeing the perfectly made queen sized bed, prison habit. Stripping off my lounge pants and boxers, I double-check the garments for signs of sex, no stains; she must’ve just gotten a few good marks on me. Running my hands through my hair I think for a moment, wondering what would be a good choice to paint in. Old clothes, always a good call, especially since I got the last ones dirty. Going to the dresser, I open the bottom left drawer, the tiny abyss of old clothes from what would’ve been my college days if I ever went to college. From the drawer I unearth an Outside Lands shirt I thought I lost in my move and dark wash skinny jeans, which were bought a few sizes too big so they didn’t cling to places that would usually make wearing them uncomfortable.

One thing I will not stand for is a tight skinny jean, on me or anyone else.

Eren was boredly flipping through architecture magazines I had out on the coffee table. His face was beet red, serving as a sudden reminder that I hadn’t shut the door to change. Job well done, Levi, just further the kid’s sexual frustration. However, I suddenly didn’t feel bad at the sight of his dirty Sperry shoes were on the furniture. 

Wait, the shit wore Sperry shoes? I thought the brat was on welfare? Maybe he stole them. Yeah, he probably stole them.

“Alright, ready?” I ask, opening the protein bar. 

Shutting the magazine he stands, hands slip into his jeans, “Yep. How do you want me to pose?”

“Topless.” I reply as I make a beeline to my work space, arranging the brushes in an array that would be easiest to access, “Jeans with the button undone, loose on your hips, but I don’t want some sort of Abercrombie crap.” 

“But I’m wearing Abercrombie jeans…” he mutters, the shuffle of his shirt hitting the hardwood sounding.

“Oi. Don’t throw your clothes around my flat, put it on the…” 

The damn kid had an eight pack.

A fucking eight pack. 

How the fuck do you even get an eight pack? I’ve been to prison and I don’t even have an eight pack.

Smirking at me, he bends down, dramatically shaking out his stupid shirt, halfheartedly folding it while looking me dead in the eye, “Put it on the what,  
Levi?” 

Goddamn it kid, don’t say my name like that. “Put it on the couch, like a civilized brat.” I mutter, beginning to mix the base colors I knew I’d need. 

Keeping my gaze firmly locked on the paints, I hear him move across the floor, the soft plop of the shirt hitting the couch sounding. At least he knew how to take direction, but as the base colors for his skin tone, jeans, hair and eyes began to conform to the desired colors, images of that dream from weeks ago continue to dwell up. Ever since I concocted it I knew I wanted him, to have him as mine in my bed, floor, kitchen counter it didn’t matter. I had to taste him; I had to get him out of my system. However, Eren’s my student, and I find it hard to believe that the dean would be pleased to hear that I had sexual relations with one of my students. 

“Where on the wall should I stand?” I hear him ask.

Setting the paintbrush down, I walk over to him, reaching up to grip his bare shoulders, surprised by how warm he was to the touch. It was like a small fire were burning right under his skin, that would certainly explain the perfectly toasted color. His breath catches as his body tenses as I guide him into place. Deciding to tease him, I couldn’t help myself as I run my hands down his incredibly sculpted torso, surprised by how much I found myself liking the feeling of his muscles. Everything seemed so much like that dream, my own heartbeat was rising as I notice my hands tremble slightly as I unbutton his jeans. 

A sharp inhale passes his lips as his body leans into the wall more, fists stay at his side, curled tightly. The button undone, I unzip his pants, noticing the bulge but remain silent. Honestly, I couldn’t decide if I wanted his pants zipped or unzipped for the piece. Pulling the tiny tab upwards, I shut the small door staring at it for a moment. The aesthetic of the whole piece and what I had planned for the series of portraits would look better if it were unzipped. Once again, the fly goes down, I survey his body, debating if this honestly was the better choice. 

“Make up your mind.” he gasps.

Leaving the zipper undone, I run a hand through my hair, using the free one to fix his hair, “Stay like that.” 

He nods, sharp eyes on me as I light a cigarette, rearranging myself behind the paints once more. Reaching over to the desk beside me, I pick up my iPod connected to wireless speakers. Scrolling around, I settle on shuffling the damn thing, the intro for Tool’s Sober building into the room, the guitar and steady tempo of the drums gently ricocheting off the high ceilings and the wooden floors, bouncing off the glass windows. 

‘There's a shadow just behind me,  
Shrouding every step I take,  
Making every promise empty,  
Pointing every finger at me.  
Waiting like a stalking butler…’

I cannot help but hum along to the words, softly singing along under my breath, allowing my mind to drift back to the pain and love I felt during the time this song came out. It was in the mid 90’s, I was in high school, and I hated it. My father had married his bitch new wife; I had discovered marijuana along with other substances. Through upper classmen, my tongue began to crave the taste of alcohol, my body began to collect scars from not only others but my own hatred of myself. 

“You didn’t listen to music last time.” Eren comments.

“I didn’t plan last time.”

“Do you always plan?”

“Mostly.”

“What do you plan?”

Glancing up at him, I continue sketching him, working on the proportions of his body, “…the model.” 

“How do you plan a model?”

“You don’t want to know.”

I could tell he wanted to move, but his job kept him a statue, “Don’t tell me what I don’t want.” 

“Fine.” I clear my throat, “Most of my models are my lovers. Some I only seduced to use for modeling.” I work on Eren's hair, now ready to paint, “People look so different when they think they're in love.”

A long moment of silence comes from the Jaeger peanut gallery, “…do they look better or worse?” 

“Better.” I sigh, “Definitely better. They glow, they're like children they're so happy. Or at least they think they are. Making people fall in love with you is easy, kid, but falling in love with people…that’s a lot harder than you’d think.” 

“Have you ever been in love?”

Not a question I wanted to discuss so soon with him, or with him at all. Love, I hated it, despised it even. I’ve loved, only once before and it was taken from me, ripped into pieces before my eyes time and time again. 

“Do you believe in love?” he tries again.

“I believe in sex.” I admit, “Love is a subjective, pointless theory.” 

I didn’t have to move my eyes from the Eren on my canvas to the breathing one leaning on my wall to see his heart break in his teal pools. His voice comes out in a whisper, if I weren’t listening for it I wouldn’t have even heard him speak, “I see…”

‘I want what I want…’

The track ends.

…

Housing the brushes facedown in the cleaning cup, I wipe my hands on a small towel I keep on hand for such an occasion, “It’s done. Do you want to see?” 

“Sure.” He exhales; muted cracks from his stretching mix in with The White Stripes’ Seven Nation Army. 

Standing, I give him a place to sit, the sun had set, and the only light came from the lamp I kept on nearby and the lighting in the kitchen. Beside me, Eren claims my place on the stool, zipping up his pants; large eyes flickering as he drinks in the sight of the work. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to your painting.”

“What do you mean?” I inquire, out of OCD habit I start to fix up his hair from the messy style I forced on it. 

He makes a soft noise of protest, shaking my hand off, “Your talent amazes me…you did this so fast…it looks like a photograph, not a painting.” 

“No need to kiss ass, you’re modeling and doing your part in maintaining your GPA.” I respond, picking up the e-cig, taking a deep drag, “You could hate it and it would effect your grade all the same.” 

His eyes speechlessly stab me, “I’m not here for the extra credit, Levi. But you are very talented; I’m not trying to flatter you. It’s the truth.”

Blowing vapor into his face I smirk, countless times I’ve heard those same words just sung in different verses. But hearing them from Eren’s mouth, something about them actually meant something to me. “Do you drink, Eren?” 

Giving me a confused look he shrugs, “Yeah, sometimes.” 

“Would you like some wine? I’m sure you’re pretty thirsty from standing upright for so long.” 

He smiles, my chest tightens at the scene, “I’m not that tired, actually. I could easily do another painting.” 

I scoff, “I doubt you could strike a good enough pose to inspire me in this shit lighting.” 

A brow rises as he crosses his arms, “Is that a bet, professor?” 

Another lungful of faux smoke passes over his face, he coughs and fans it away, “It is.” 

That smile from second ago returns, seduction lining it as he leisurely walks backwards, preserving strict eye contact, “You’re on.”

Chuckling under my breath, I migrate to the couch, lying down on it, propping myself on it so that I was lounging on it. He returns to the wall, eyes lock on mine again, sending tightness in my stomach, a chill in my entire body, heat in my groin. As his hands grip his jeans, unzipping them, dropping them to the floor, I am hit with the reality of my impending arousal. Damn, this kid was a little too educated in sex. He was nervous in what he was doing, his usual confidence dwindled when the jeans left his body, but whatever he was wanting from me, he wanted it badly enough to tease me, try to lure me to him with his body.

“This pose could work.” He informs me, resting his forearms against the wall, tilting his head back, his body in a position that reminded me of Ricky Martin. Fuck, he was copying Ricky Martin.

“This isn’t the 90’s, Eren.” 

Shooting me a glare he drops his pose, “Shut up, it’s what came to mind.” 

“Try again.” 

He leans into the wall again, crossing his arms, tilting his head back to where the muscles in his neck were exposed, with his jawline beautifully defined. The way the shit lighting from the lamp hit his body was stunning and alluring. That aching only became more so, forcing me to shift in my seat. Clearing my throat, I lightly bite the cig, “That doesn’t look bad.” 

His eyes snap back to me, going down my body, stopping to the place I was attempting to hide, “You okay?” 

“I’m fine.” I exhale, “Keep posing, you might win your stupid challenge.” 

A triumphant smirk overtakes his expression as he sinks down to the floor, drawing his knees up, draping his forearms on them, crossing his wrists over one another, “And this?” 

That actually inspired me. Standing up, I walk over to him, the cig still in my mouth as I guide him to lie down on the floor, positioning one knee slightly bent and the other mostly straight. Taking his arms, I move them to the right position. Pleased with the pose I smirk, inhaling the water vapor, “That’s good. I like that a lot. We’ll do this next time, but you’ll be naked with a sheet covering you.” 

Abruptly, he plucks the cig from between my lips, dropping the tiny machine to the hardwood, growling, “Why not have me naked in your sheets now?” 

Without warning, he wraps his arms around me, forcing me atop him, crushing our lips together. Instantly my eyelids fall closed, my fingers grip him tightly, still liking the warmth his skin gave off. Being in his arms was intoxicating; it was everything from my dream and more. He smelt better than I could’ve imagined, his lips were soft and firm, and they fit against mine perfectly. They were powerful, they demanded I give myself to him, but my usual defiance pushed back, creating a delicate balance as I struggle to remain the more powerful. But the pleasure between my legs throbbed, begging for my hand or Eren’s to touch it. 

Parting, a shaky breath rattles from between my teeth as I look up at him, he seemed shocked at his own actions, but his arms still grip me tightly against him, “Next time you have a boner, don’t hide it from me.” 

“Shitty brat.” I growl, shoving him again, shielding my mouth with my hand, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” 

“I know what you want.” He replies, sitting upright, “You know what I want. We both know this assignment is just an excuse to see me, that you came back to the café over and over just to stare at me.” 

“To paint!” I spit back, body tense, “I’m an artist, I wanted to paint you, not fuck you!”

“I never said you wanted to fuck me!” 

Grinding my teeth I debate the m any options swimming through my head, “Don’t do that again, Eren.” 

“Why not?” he presses, moving closer, “Why am I any different from anyone else?” 

“Because you’re my student, Eren! It’s against school conduct! You could win a large lawsuit and I could end up in prison.”

“That never stopped you before!” he retorts, eyes widen once he realizes what he said.

My blood runs cold, standing I nod to the door, “Get out.” 

Trembling, he quickly gathers his jeans, standing before me in nothing but his underwear, “…I’m sorry.” 

“You crossed the line. Get out.” 

He closes his eyes for a moment, “…Levi.” 

“Professor Rivialle.” 

His Adam’s apple bobs, “Professor Rivialle…I know about you and Annie…I…” 

Restraining the urge to backhand him then and there I cross my arms firmly over my chest, “It’s time for you to go, Eren.” 

Face becoming redder he picks up his clothing from the floor, quickly changing. Giving him some privacy I turn my back to him, lighting a cigarette, staring to furiously smoke it. God I needed a scotch, or six. That blond bitch was spreading word of her and I, that’s the last thing I need. That would be a golden ticket back to prison. I refuse to go back there because of some number hungry brat.

“I’m…” 

“Don’t.” I snap, turning around, he was clothed, a tear had fallen from his eyes, “Come back at the same time tomorrow. Pose like he just practiced, don’t say a word unless needed. Do you understand?” 

He squeezes his eyes tight, “Yes sir.” He chokes out.

“Five thirty.” 

“Five thirty.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Levi becomes a human train wreck with Hange to the rescue! And Eren stops by for his next modeling session, but doesn't model.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been shunned from my apartment because some crazy fellow film kids are making a film about a psycho clown killer. I'm terrified of clowns, are in Starbucks and wrote this chapter. 
> 
> Eren's college life will be in the next next chapter ;)
> 
> Maybe.
> 
> Thank you so so much for reading, I really do appreciate it.
> 
> Comments are much loved, you honestly have no idea! <3

It has been about two and a half weeks since I went for the scotch. The last time I opened that sweet, bitter amber liquid was when my father figured out about my absence in prison. He called to tensely lecture about how he thought that in federal confinement was exactly where I needed to be for being such a disgrace to his family. 

Not like it’s a problem for him anyways, he agreed when I was sixteen that I could change my last name to my mother’s, Ackerman. It was only a few more years after that I started slinging drugs, but the alcoholism had already started to become a problem. 1998 was when I was given my first shot of scotch, at the time it was only thrown back for the sake of pleasing my peers, but soon, I learnt that the taste was pleasurable for multiple reasons. 

Eyes on the tumbler glass filled halfway with ice, the amber fills the glass a quarter of an inch. Lifting it to my lips I throw it back, holding it in my mouth for a moment, letting it burn and roast my throat before swallowing. The immediate buzz hits as a little bit more than before fills the base of the glass. Throwing that back, I fill it again. 

The fifth time I close my eyes. 

The seventh time a laugh escapes me as I cough up a bit of it. 

Ten is when I can’t control my shaking hands enough to pour an eleventh. 

More likely that not, I’m probably dangerously close to alcohol poisoning, even for me. Somehow I end up on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, it appeared to be gently swaying as if it were an oddly colored ocean. That night I was about this drunk too, the blond fox had slipped something powerful into my drink. Despite working in the drug ring, date rape was something I refused to touch; addicts and crack whores were more of my forte when I wasn’t getting in some petty fight. 

Her makeup was done well that night, smoky eyes always made young women look older and older women appear younger. Those usually pale pink lips were a dangerous red, I barely recognized her with her hair down and breasts out. She had sauntered up to me, leaned on the bar counter, starting to flirt. 

One drink led to another, she had it all planned. We left the bar, back to her small apartment she shared with her father who was always out on work. She guided me to her room, had the camera ready, I never saw her switch it on. Like Eren, Annie seemed a bit too skilled in intimate affairs for her age, but then again I’m sure kids these days are hyper sexualized as opposed to those of my generation. Her mouth knew what to do; her hands worked well, that small frame fit well against mine. She was overly submissive, teasing me just the right amount to drive me a bit crazier than I like to be. Whispering in my ear she’d beg me to slap her ass, be forceful and rough, that’s how she liked it. Eager and drunk, I complied. 

When the afternoon sun rose, she was blow-drying her hair and I was still naked in her bed. Sitting upright, I recognized her from my class, rubbing my forehead I couldn’t stop cursing, realizing what I had done. Cold, calculating ice blue eyes bore into me. Standing, she kept the hairdryer going, her father was eating in the kitchen. Holding my shoulders, she slipped into my lap, kissing me deeply, patting my cheek she whispered, “I made a tape last night, professor. Give me another C again and I’ll show it to your boss.”

Running my tongue over my front teeth I sigh, feeling around for my phone, wondering how many teachers she’s done that with, and what she could possibly gain from spreading talk of that video around now. I knew it existed, I gave her a low B and she sent me a videotext from an unknown number, five seconds I wish I could un-see. Scrolling through my contacts, a finger lingers over Eren’s name; he had programmed his number in here when I wasn’t looking. I wanted him, goddamn it I wanted him, not just his body but him. It was painfully clear he did too, but my affair with Annie kept him frustrated and at bay.

He knew, he knew she and I slept together, at least she wasn’t crying rape. Rape or no, sex with her, that tape, it all could send me back to the place that Hange fought so hard to get me out of. Exhaling the finger continues to scroll, falling on the service for women that I prefer, I needed some way to get Jaeger out of my system. But was fucking really the solution to that? If Petra found out my ass would become grass and she would mercilessly mow it. And I knew some faux breasted, breathing sex doll wouldn’t fulfill the satisfaction of having Eren in my bed. 

Plus, I didn’t know shit about anal sex. I knew what went where, but aside from that, nothing else. Wetting my lips I drop the phone on my stomach, rolling to my side, trying to steady myself long enough to get to the bedroom where my laptop was. 

I think. 

Squinting, I survey the small apartment, seeing no laptop in the living room or kitchen and I don’t think it would ever be in the laundry room or pantry. Stumbling to the bedroom, I spot the laptop on a dresser. Fumbling with it, I fall back onto the bed, accessing the Internet, struggling with the blurred, moving keys and finally pulled up PornHub, searching male gay porn. 

Laying back and stretching out, I light up a cigarette, debating how long until I’d sober up to open up a bottle of wine. On the screen, the two unrealistically ripped men, began to go at it, touching, kissing and doing things I didn’t know the male rectum could withstand. Although, there was a large majority of the incredibly drunk part of my mind that found this to be completely and utterly disgusting, there was another piece that was enjoying this. What if the one taking it were Eren, and the one giving was I? Could I pleasure him as well as that man pleasures his partner on the screen? 

Probably. 

As the men start to bring some more experimental elements into the mix, a loud knock sounds at the door. Jumping, the cigarette falls from my fingers, rolling on the bedspread.

“Shit!” I hiss, patting down the bed, trying to catch the little rolled up paper and tobacco that was leisurely burning. 

“Ravioli?” the voice of a hyperactive she-demon calls from the living room. 

“Fuck!” the moaning of the man being fucked gets louder as the smell of burning bedspread wafts into my nose. 

“Oh my god, Levi your bed’s on fucking fi-are you watching gay porn?!” she starts laughing hysterically as I trip over something on the floor, falling on my back, head hitting the hardwood. 

This only made her laugh harder as she leaves the room. 

“Shut the fuck up, Shit Glasses!” 

She enters, pressing her bare foot onto my face; the scent of ripe Hange feet nearly causes me to gag as the sound of water hitting the bed snaps my attention from her nasty foot to the bed. Men still fucking, the bed was soaked, a large black circle consuming a good portion of it, somehow the laptop had gotten soaked but was still playing, the video glitching a bit, the moans sounding something like merriment and demonic summoning. 

“This is the part where you say thank you and we kiss.” She grins dumbly down at me, holding my face between her hands, stroking the skin with her thumbs. 

“No.” 

Sighing, she pecks my nose, brushing the hair off my forehead, “And you say I’m the child. Want me to make you coffee?” 

Nodding I close my eyes, she knew my weakness, coffee and having my hair toyed with. She kneels behind me, drawing me against her chest, still playing with my hair, her breathing tickles the top of my head, “…you haven’t been going to your rehab sessions, have you?” 

“…no.” 

“Then who’s been checking in for you?”

I laugh, nestling against her, “…homeless man.” 

“Oh little Ravioli Man, what am I to do with you?” 

“…don’t know.” 

Another sigh as she rests her head against mine, lying back she pulls me atop her. Those impossibly long, thin fingers of hers keep finger combing my hair, “Why is the nice scotch I bought you for Christmas last year almost gone?” 

No answer. The moaning had stopped; even with my eyes closed the room was spinning. 

“Did something happen?” 

“…little bit.” 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

“…no.” 

“Must’ve been pretty bad to make you drink that much again, smoke and watch gay porn.” 

“…always smoke…” 

A long, deep sigh, she felt like a boat, “I know you do. That’s the only thing I let you get away with since you use the e-cigs.” 

“Sometimes.” 

“Levi.” She whispers, “You need to sober up, completely. Smoking…I can live with you smoking, but you need to stop with this heavy drinking. And I saw your bill. You bought morphine again. What the hell do you need shots of morphine for?” 

“…science.” 

“You’re drunk out of your mind.” She mutters, I feel her move, gathering me in her arms, with a load groan I now I’m off the ground, “Damn you’re heavy you fucking hobbit…” 

Struggling with me, the plush cushions of the couch envelop her and I, Hange’s heavy breathing all I hear for a few minutes until her weight leaves the couch and the warmth of a blanket enters. She rests her forehead against mine, I pry open my eyes to look at her, my entire body tired, so tired I could die now and be so content. 

“Why did you order morphine?” she demands in a low tone, voice tight. 

“…I’m sorry.” 

“Where is it?” 

“…” 

“Levi.” 

“…taped to ceiling fan blade.” 

“At least it’s not in the toilet again.” She groans as she leaves. 

It didn’t take her too long until she came back, forehead against mine again, “Let’s get dinner Monday night, my treat. I’m moved here for good, you won’t be alone anymore.” 

“Not alone.” 

“Oh? Who’s your new friend besides that cute redhead?” 

“…Eren. I’m not alone because Eren.” 

…

How long had it been since I had last felt like this? This groggy crispness of a good hangover, a hangover that left the body mimics sensations that one may feel after being run over by a few cars mixed with the clarity of heightened senses. That’s my favorite sort of hangover. Draped over my body was a white blanket, memories of Hange’s drive by last night floating throughout my consciousness. Hearing a soft clinking in the kitchen, I look over my shoulder to see her hanging up a skillet to dry. She smiles back at me, walking over to ruffle my hair, smiling I lean into the motions, god it felt amazing. 

“Good morning.” She greets gently, “I’ve got to leave now, you slept until five thirty.” 

Closing my eyes I frown, “Have I? That’s pleasant…” 

“You have. Just so you know, the morphine is gone, if I catch that or anything else like it on your cards I will end you, Levi.” She threatens sweetly.

“Whatever.” 

Kissing my nose again she stares deep into my eyes, “…this is your fresh chance to fix yourself without wasting in a cell. Behave, Levi.” 

Nodding, I hear the knock of Eren at the door, “Leave the door open for the kid, he’s here to model.” 

“You’re painting again?!”

“Yes…” 

She grins, wiggling around like a small dog, “That’s fantastic! Send the collection my way when you finish! We might be able to sell it!” 

“Maybe…” I smile, watching her go, she left the door wide open, Eren was in its frame, he looked sullen and worse than I felt. 

Heavy bags were under his eyes; he could pass for a very attractive homeless man. His clothes were horribly ruffled, his hair screamed of sex, which sent an unwelcomed, painful jab into my chest. Those usually bright eyes slowly slide over to me as he moves out of Hange’s way as she leaves, clearly sensing some sort of tension between us and quickly leaving down the hallway. 

Drawing the blanket around my body, I stand; he was wearing baggy sweatpants that had ‘fuck you’ written up the leg in the same lettering a college name would be written in. He shuts the door behind him, wetting his lips as he scratches the back of his head. His eyes were puffy, he had been crying. Entering the kitchen, I see Hange had made ham and eggs with green tea, the woman knew me too well. 

“I hope you don’t think I’m going to paint you looking like that.” I inform him, clearing my throat as I lean on the counter, cutting into the eggs. 

He cuts me a dark expression, turning my blood cold, “…you said I’d be naked. You never gave me a dress code, Professor.” 

The word ‘professor’ comes out like a curse word might. 

“Fair enough.” I shrug, eating another mouthful of eggs. 

“Who was that woman?” he asks darkly, taking a seat at my small kitchen table, “Another hooker to make you eggs and ham?” 

“No, actually, she’s a good friend of mine.” I frown, as much shit as I have and will talk about Hange, the moment someone jabs at her, the walls go up. 

“Why? Because she won’t suck your dick?” 

Slamming the plate down, I return the dark glare given to me, “What the hell’s your problem, kid?” 

“You.” He spits, tears threatening his eyes, “You’re my problem!”

Exhaling, I close my eyes, concealing my temper, “…Eren. I know what you’re wanting and-”

“I know!” He shouts, standing abruptly, hands curled at his sides, face curled into a terrifying expression, “I know Levi! I fucking know! I don’t know why, but I can’t get you out of my head! I try, I really fucking try! I want to try to be with you, but I can’t ever do that can I?! Because you fucked Annie! Because you’re a sick pervert who records sex with his students-” 

Before I knew it, I had backhanded him; he went dead silent, holding the side of his face, trembling. 

“I didn’t record it.” I inform him evenly, now aware of how heavily I was breathing, “She did. I know you won’t believe me, why would you, I’m just a pervert who records himself having sex with his students. But she’s manipulative, criminal, trust me, I know criminal.” 

“W-what?” he chokes out, eyes wide with disbelief, “No…Annie…she’d never do that to Bertholdt…” 

“Who’s Bertholdt? Her boyfriend?” 

Eren nods. 

“Poor bastard. He’s in my other class, seems like a nice enough kid.” I sigh, seeing Eren’s face begin to turn a dark red from where I hit him. Taking his wrist I gently lead him into the kitchen. 

The kid says nothing as I open the freezer, pulling out frozen peas, wrapping them in a dishtowel and gently press them to where he was slapped. His eyes close with an soft exhale, he seemed like he was fucking getting off on it. 

“Sorry.” I sigh, lifting the peas, yeah the area was going to be swollen, “I shouldn’t have hit you.” 

“Because I’m your student?” he snaps. 

“Because…yeah, because you’re my student.” 

He rolls his eyes, they latch onto me. God, even when he had the appearance of someone who had been put through hell, he was still attractive as hell. I immediately wanted to think that he had just gotten out of my bed from a rough night of sex with me. But good sex, not that bullshit on PornHub. 

Those large teal orbs flicker as he moves closer, his hands reach up to cup my face, forcing our lips together again, joining them in a deep kiss. His mouth sinks against mine, parting to increase the intimacy, and I cannot help but open my lips to him. He tasted sweet, his lips felt better than before when we kissed, and his hands on my skin sent fire through my entire body. My mind was nothing but a jumped, hormonal mess desperate for Eren Jaeger’s touch. Without meaning to, I straightening my posture to push myself further against him, his hands fall from my jaw to holding the back of my neck and the small of my back. Leaning closer, I discovered that our bodies fit perfectly, more so than anyone I’ve ever been with, better than Petra, who seemed to slip against my form like a lost puzzle piece. But Eren, I can’t describe it, our bodies and we as people fit in these moments as our lips move for one another, battling for dominance while crumbling to the other. 

Breaking it off I breathe heavily, the breaths hitting his lips, “…why?” 

“I want you.” He whispers, voice shaking, “I have since the café…I know it sounds stupid…but…you’re the first person that’s ever made me feel…crazy. But the good crazy…does that make sense or do I sound like an idiot?” 

Smirking, I shake my head, “No…you don’t sound anymore like an idiot than you usually do.” Lowering my arms from his body I force myself to take a step back, “I feel attracted to you, Eren, I won't deny that. But I’m not gay.” 

His eyes widen, this time he’s the one to back away, “Then…why the fuck did you kiss me?” 

“I don’t know.” I admit, my eyes fixate on the floor then back to Eren, “I'm also much older than you. There’s a lot of trouble with our age gap alone, plus the whole teacher student, thing. If it were just a one-night stand, sure, assuming that you don’t record it and blackmail me with the footage...” god I wanted a cigarette, “,but something tells me you don't want a one night stand.” 

“I wouldn’t record it either.” He adds, “I don't care how old you are, I could care less about that. And you’re right I wouldn't want a one night stand but if it were my only chance with you, I would do it.” 

His words were hitting me in places I didn’t think worked anymore, drawing forth internal reactions I never wished to have ever again. I really needed a cigarette. Handing the bags of peas to him, I move past him, opening the drawer with take out menus, pulling out a cig, lighting up, taking multiple deep drags. The nicotine calmed me, but barely, that kid’s eyes were on me, his words still rattled around in my heart and head, “…why would you want me anyways?” I demand, claiming another lungful of smoke, “I'm at least twelve years older than you, I'm an alcoholic who's smoking his life away, and I'm your fucking art professor. Why the fuck would you ever want a chance with a man like me?” 

He stares at me for a long time, I cursed myself for speaking so honestly, extinguishing the tiny butt, lighting another, hearing him move closer, I fought the urge to cry. Damn it, why did I want to cry?

“"I've notice all of that.” He admits tenderly, speaking as if I were a child, “That doesn't bother me, that’s not you, not the real you. The real you shows in your art, even though it’s of other people. You have reasons to get drunk and smoke a lot, one day I really hope I know those reasons but not to blackmail you, but because you trust me. I see something more inside of you; I see power, Levi, strong power and beauty. That's why I want the chance with you.”

No one’s ever spoken to me like that, not even Hange. This brat barely knew me, where does he get off thinking he knows me, really knows me? How is it that he sees through that damned wall I’ve worked so fucking hard to put up?! Hange and Hange alone is the only one that I’ve dared allowed to see behind it, and this kid, he already can sense what’s behind it, but he doesn’t know what exactly lies there. 

“Something more, huh?" I mutter, taking another drag, sighing, hating myself for these next words, for how I react when people get too close, “You said you'd be open to just a one night stand, right? Because it's your 'only shot' with me?”

He swallows thickly, “Would you even really have a one night stand with me? You said so yourself, you’re not gay.” 

“I'd be willing to sleep with you.” I admit, flicking my eyes to look back into Eren's, “The question is can you handle that?”

Closing his eyes for a brief second, I watch him ground himself. They open, revealing his signature determination, “I can.”

Wrong answer, kid.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren and Levi do some dirty things on the hardwood floor leaving Levi butt hurt in more than one way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was so fun to write, it's been a bit too long since I've written smuty smut things <3  
> Poor Levi though, no one likes waking up alone.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, I really appreciate it. 
> 
> Comments and feedback are so loved, I could hug each comment if I could! <3

“I don’t believe you.”

His eyes widen, part of me hated it when they did that, they looked nearly ready to pop out of his head, “What? What do you…” 

“I mean, I don’t believe you can handle a strictly physical relationship.” I correct him, walking to the kitchen, pulling the scotch from the cabinet again, “I’ve painted a lot of people in love…women in love, never a man.” 

“I’m not in love with you.”

Swallowing back the liquid I scoff, “Sure you’re not.” Turning to meet those eyes I exhale, half debating on offering him a glass. Walking up to him again, I wrap a hand around the nape of his neck, pressing my lips against his, tasting the sweet, natural taste they had on them. 

A soft exhale passes from between his lips, causing him to open them enough for me to bully my tongue into his mouth, aggressively exploring and invading the area. His arms are back around me, possessively keeping my body against his. Strong, powerful hands grip my lower back, the back of my head, as he breaks off the kiss, leading a deep trail down my jawline, his teeth graze the skin, sending chills down my spine. Knees weakening, I damn myself as I sink into him further, hands holding my weight upright from gripping his broad shoulders. 

His kisses find their way to my neck, teeth and tongue work hard to leave marks, without looking I can tell they are there by the way his teeth massage the skin. Entangling in my hair, he winds and re-winds his fingers through the longer strands of the undercut, tugging hard, drawing a ragged gasp from me.

“It seems like it’s you that can’t handle a physical relationship,” he breathes against my ear, his voice booming inside my entire body, weakening it even more as he lets out a sensual moan, licking on the inner shell of the ear, “, Levi.” 

God, his voice was poison, it seeped into my ear only to take complete control of my body, possessing me as well as every thought, soiling it with thoughts of him.   
Closing my eyes I picture how we would be together, that dream coming to mind, body remembering how good the imaginary Eren felt, reminded how much better the real one is that refuses to release me from his hold. 

“What have you done to me?” I rasp, cutting my eyes into his, things were blurring, slightly dizzy. 

“Nothing.” He whispers, “I’ve done nothing.” 

“Damn you, Eren Jaeger.” 

“Damn me.” 

Our lips are against one another again, he lifts me against his chest, I instinctively jump slightly, he was anticipating this, his hands wrap around my buttocks, keeping me upright. He starts to move, turning into the wall, my back hits it, scraping on it gently as he shifts so that I was wrapped right above his groin, the point of his erection hitting the start of mine. A groan escapes me as I grip a handful of messy, soft brown hair, giving it a rough tug, wordlessly demanding more of that friction. 

He understands, without whispered corrections, he gets it. Moving again, yet maintaining the pace of our lips and heated bites on each other’s necks, one arm leaves me; the other grips my body more securely. The newly freed hand plays at my pant line, the muscles recoil back, a shudder rushes from between my teeth.

Kissing under my ear he starts to roll his hips between my legs, my head tumbles back into the wall; another loud moan comes from me as he somehow relieves me of my shirt. His hand travels up my torso, pinching my nipple, taking more control of my body; he knew exactly where to touch to reduce me to a moan mess beneath him. 

I hated him for it, yet this was a pleasure I never knew my body could experience, it was as if I were a virgin again, discovering sex for the first time. Discovering what it was really like to kiss someone, to be touched by someone and to touch someone. It was like he was sweetly pulls back the layers that I covered myself in to protect myself. But through carnal desire and trickery, he knew how to weaken me, seeing me without my knowing. He was so young, it should be me pinning him to a wall and causing him to moan and writhe against the drywall, but no, I was the disaster, he was reaping the benefits of the storm. 

Moving, he lays me on the floor, pinning my hands above my head as his lips attack my neck and collarbone. His teeth scrape against where the bone protrudes from the skin; his hand tightly keeps my wrists pressed together as hands curl into fists, while my back arches into his pelvis, rocking gently to steal a guttural groan from him. If he wouldn’t let me touch him, I’d still make him dirty too. This caused him to behave rougher, biting my collar, nibbling on my untouched nipple as his mesmerizing teal eyes lock on me, sending another wave of pleasure throughout me. There was near euphoric pleasure in knowing that those eyes alone stared at me as if I were the only thing of importance to them. I could see the longing and lust in them, emotions that words cannot describe were toiling into those shades, hues that were immortalized on my canvases, only now did I truly see the power of them. 

They flicker down, mouth traveling lower, swirling inside my navel; hands eagerly strip me bare on my hardwood floor. Right as the cool air of the apartment wraps around my entire body, as does his hands around my member, giving the already hard organ a few strong pumps, thumb toying with the tip, stealing another sound. He kisses on the inside of my thighs, licking along the ridges where I knew muscle definition to be, forcing irregular tensing of the areas as he maintains his hand job, sinful lips between my legs, lapping and suckling on more tender skin.

“Eren…” I moan, suddenly aware that he had freed my hands as they grip my hair, then his, pulling hair, “Ah…god…fuck…Eren!”

Delivering a swift slap to my ass, he greedily grips the flesh, again and again, as he works it in a forceful massage, his mouth working on licking on the full length of my erection. He moans, sending vibrations against the skin in his mouth, nearly sending me over the edge. 

I was close, I was so damn close.

“Eren!” I gasp, trying to form the words that I was close, wanting to tell him that I wanted to fuck him, I wanted to be inside him, I wanted to grip that messy brown hair, slam into him, bite his ear, kiss every inch of his body and hear him scream my name. But instead, I was a toiling confusion reduced to a moaning mess in his hands. 

He remains silent, aside from the sexual noises slipping out from his dedicated work to my crotch, which was sending me further and further into that white-hot bliss of a true orgasm. It grips me tightly, powerfully, shattering my entire body in a tingling, euphoric high that forced a total surrender to him as well as the carnal pleasure of being sent to a state of being so perfect and blissful that I couldn’t even fathom on how to describe it. Never have I ever had an orgasm that encompassed me, all of me, to where I whited out, not even aware of what I was doing, where I was, only that there was the pleasure and there was Eren, those were the only facts that mattered.

The white fades, the dirty ceiling coming into view, gentle kisses softly hitting my stomach, venturing to my neck, jaw, cheek, forehead then lips. His hands held my face on either side, he joined our foreheads, and a long sigh tickles my lips as he lies atop me.

“…you’re so beautiful, Levi.” He murmurs, thumb delicately stroking the skin, “So, so beautiful.” 

I hate complements, they never seemed genuine, just ways to manipulate others into obtaining what they wanted. Yet, today was teeming with firsts, believing a compliment was now added to the list.

“As are you.” I whisper, voice hoarse as if I had been screaming, which knowing him, I probably had been.

He chuckles, relaxing against me, kissing my cheek again and again, pushing my hair back, burying his face in the crook of my neck, “You smell amazing…I’d love to be able to wake up to this smell…”

“Spend the night then.” I offer impulsively, “Get the whole package of a one night stand with me.” 

“We haven’t had sex.”

“Not yet.” I yawn, wrapping my arms around him, resting a cheek atop his impossibly unkempt hair, “Let me get my strength back, and I’ll fuck you into the fucking floorboards.” 

“You sure do know how to woo with your words, professor.” 

“It’s Levi.” 

“…Levi.”

…

I’m not sure when it was when I fell asleep, but I had. The floor has never been that comfortable, considering that it was hardwood, but with Eren’s warmth, coupled with the relaxing rhythm of his breathing, it wasn’t bad. But as the ache of it really started to become a sad reality to my lower back, the heart stifling shock of waking up alone on the floor of a small, lonely apartment loft was a slow, deep slap in the face.

Sitting upright, a hand rubs the sleep from my eyes as they scan the room, the mess from drinking and Hange were still there, Eren’s scent clung to me, serving as one of few reminders that he was actually here. That, and he left his jacket on the kitchen floor, a tan piece of overpriced Abercrombie crap in a neat little crumpled pile alone before the oven.

Body sore, I force myself to stand, trying to reconnect with my pride, never have I been left after any sexual act like this, naked on my floor with nothing but a jacket on the floor. Eren Jaeger, he was something, I’m not sure what yet, but he’s something. Bending over, I manage to get my pants around my waist before falling onto the couch, fumbling with a cigarette and lighter, starting a light, nursing it while staring off into space.

He left me. He mouth fucked me and left me. That little tan, toned shit left me.

Inhaling deeply, the smoke curls and expands in the dim lighting, Eren had turned off all of the lights on his way out, guess he thought he was doing a favor or some shit. He was ballsy, I’ll give him that, he acted on impulse as well as emotion, and some find that courageous, while others like me find it to be incredibly irritating. Tomorrow was Monday, at two in the afternoon I would have to go to the college, teach him as if none of this happened today. He would be late, as always, we would maybe exchange a few words, leaving it to be nothing but a memory. Perhaps he would hide the marks I had left on his body, there would be no doubt that the love wounds on my skin would be well concealed least I get a poorly planned remark from Braus.

Monday could not leave soon enough; Monday could stop existing for all I care. If I could wish for one thing, it would be for that day to no longer be a concept, best to eliminate the problem than have to face the fact that it exists. 

Standing, I wander around the living room, eyes continuously returning to the place on the wall where we were, to the spot on the floor where he left. I wondered how he did it. Did he give me one of those saccharine kisses while I slept, then dressed himself before slipping out of my home? The way he touched me is a way I’ve never been touched before, the benign way he held me was so intimate it was breathtaking. And having him love me with his body was like being at the bottom of the ocean, weighed down with emotions, the kind that swells in your throat and chest so much so that you think they’re going to burst out and destroy you. 

That’s what Eren Jaeger did to me; he ruined me on that floor. He may have not fucked me, but he took me in every sense of the word. 

…

Despite the immense not wanting it to, Monday came, its irritating golden light spilled through the window, curtains, overflowing onto the bed. It cast a gentle, warm glow about the room, filled with the usual pale greys; blues and whites, making it seem cozy almost, which was unusual for a place of my inhabitance. 

Going through the motions of the morning routine, I find myself in my kitchen, apartment spotless from the weekend’s adventures save for Eren’s tan jacket. I couldn’t bring myself to touch it after Sunday evening. However, as I stood there, sneaking rum into the morning coffee, something shifted as I knelt down to take the jacket between my hands. Lifting it to my nose, eyes close as I inhale his scent, it was worse than nicotine, worse than alcohol.

Standing, I slip the jacket on, it was too big for me, it dropped off on the shoulders, the sleeves were too long, but it fit well enough in the chest. Picking up the spiked coffee, I grab the car keys out of the bowl by the door, not feeling the energy to walk today. 

The classroom hadn’t changed, yet it felt different. Students were bent over their projects, frantic to ensure that they were perfect, or at least up to the standards that the class required. No one so much glanced up at me as I took my seat, no one noticed Eren Jaeger’s tan jackets on my body. Seats continued to fill, while I checked email, inhaling and exhaling mechanic smoke, not really reading the words on the screen, the suppressed rage building higher in my chest. 

2:25 P.M. I was showing mercy, letting them have nearly an extra half hour to complete the assignment. Looking up I see Eren half sitting on the edge of a desk, arms crossed over his stomach as he smiles and talks with Braus, his light eyes crinkle as they alight with genuine amusement. Sensing the stare, those blue-green pools shift to me, a light blush dusting over his tan features as his body tenses. Unable to help myself, I cut him a dangerous glare, which causes him to swallow thickly, eyes widen as he inches a bit closer to Braus, as if she could protect him. 

“Alright, if you’re turning your project in on time for full credit, it better be on the wall.” I snap, shutting off the e-cig, “If it’s not up there now, it’s late, no exceptions.” 

No one says a word, they all fall back in an invisible barrier, giving me room to walk by and inspect their work. Lifting the cig back to my lips, I click it on, needing it now more than ever, observing the work. Thankfully, they had taken to the previous critiques resulting in a significant improvement in the work. Most had chosen fairly simplistic portraits to do, half were self-portraits, half were family members or friends. Stopping before Braus’, she had painted a rather detailed portrait of a ham hock. 

“What the actual fuck, Braus?” I ask, not even that surprised by this.

“It’s Steven.” She pants hungrily in my ear; “I stole him from the cafeteria. It’s meant for the Thanksgiving spread for the chairmen but…they didn’t lock it away properly this year.” 

“…I don’t even know where to start with you. But at least you stuck with the parameters.” 

“You never said the portrait had to be human.” She hisses, extending a hand to the ham, “This portrait is the best here, you can almost smell Steven.” 

“Please don’t call the meat Steven.” A tall, freckled girl, Ymir I believe, sighs, “It just doesn’t sound right.” 

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand.” Sasha snaps, eyes narrowed, her fingers digging into my upper arm, “Steven is too beautiful and divine for you to even comprehend.” 

“Steven is a hunk of stolen meat.” Ymir frowns.

“Steven is a hunk of genius. That I cooked in my slow cooker and ate while watching Orange is the New Black this Saturday.” 

“Are you on season two finally?” 

“Yeah, I really like where they’re going with-”

“Enough!” I interrupt, shrugging the carnivore off my person, “You can discuss this on break or outside of class. I’ll let your portrait of…Steven slide this once, Braus. Don’t paint meat, especially stolen meat for a portrait project ever again.” 

“What if I buy the meat?” 

I didn’t even have the strength with this one to continue on the conversation. Moving down the line one catches my eye, of a man lying down on dark hardwood, hands over his head, eyes half drawn in a lustful expression, brows knit upwards in pleasure while his mouth is agape as if mid-moan. Stepping closer, my blood runs dry, of all the people, of all the damn moments for him to decide to paint he chooses that one?! Unbelievable, he’s achieved the near impossible, to catch me completely by surprise. 

Whirling around, I grip Eren by the shirt, not checking to see if he was ready to walk, nearly dragging the teen out into the hallway, slamming him into the wall, glowering into wide, terrified eyes. 

“What the hell is that?” I growl, hands trembling. 

He wets his lip, “M-my project.” 

“Do not.” I seethe, “Do not dare fuck with me right now, Jaeger!” 

“I-I’m not…”

“Shut up!”

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” I demand, leering closer, “Why the fuck would you dare bring that to class?!”

“I couldn’t get the image out of my head.” He breathes, talking quickly, “I-I wanted to apologize for…” 

“They invented this shit called writing or texting, you should fucking try it sometime. Keep that shit to yourself, not bring it to class!” released him I run a hand through my hair, trying to calm down, but I couldn’t. The pain of prison bubbling up, having cold cuffs on my wrists, being hauled off, naked searches, nonexistent freedom. 

“I was scared, Levi…”

“You said you could handle it.” I shout, “I knew you couldn’t, and now I might lose my job or worse! You’re dropped from the class, Eren, for misconduct and inappropriate behavior. Get your shit off my wall and get the hell out!”

Tears form in his eyes as he presses himself into the wall; they lower, grazing over his jacket on my body, “Fine.” He replies thickly, shoving past me to enter the classroom with me hot on his heels.

Watching him that sinking feeling only worsened as I watch Eren do as he's told for once. Crossing my arms over my chest I fight to bite back the impulses tearing through me right now. Infinite words whirl around to the point that it was dizzying, I wanted a cigarette, I wanted him to have never brought in that stupid, amazing piece. I wanted him to stay with me on that floor, I wanted him.

Ignoring the logic of it all, I speak, “Observe, class.” I announce, voice loud, authoritative, “Eren has displayed something very reckless in his artwork. He's brought personal experience to life in his painting, using the passion of the moment to express his emotions. His work has been shit all throughout my time as his professor, and who knew if you literally fuck the kid that he'd actually make presentable work. The colors are balanced, the technique is fairly well done, and the emotion radiates from the canvass.” the class was dead quiet, all viewing with wide eyes, all unsure what to say or even if that could speak, “Sometimes, art, what you love, makes you do stupid shit.” 

Heart pounding, I stand behind Eren, reaching out to guide his arm down from working the pins out of the wall. Turning his head, he looks over his shoulder at me, a tear had fallen from his eyes, and in that moment I swore that I would never be the reason for those eyes to shed tears again. Gripping his chin in my hand I kiss him deeply, holding his jaw, drowning in his delicious taste, in love with how he returned the action without hesitation, his own hand reaching to cup my neck.

Breaking it off breathlessly, I make eye contact with my students, for the last time, “Dismissed, I quit.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Levi officially quits his job, Eren takes his virgin ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry Mom, I swear I'm not a gay boy.

“Levi! Levi, what the hell did you just do?!”

It didn’t take him too long to catch up with me; I could hear the flapping of his shoes coupled with the paper of the watercolor that started today’s mess. Breathless, he finally reaches my side, gripping my shoulder right as I’m about to light up in the school. “Levi, aren’t you listening to me?” he demands, light eyes wide with worry.

Igniting the paper and tobacco, lungs claim their fill before blowing the toxins in that beautiful face, “Not particularly, no.”

“You just…why did you…you’ll get fired!”

“No I won’t, I quit. Weren’t you listening?” 

His expression is priceless, I have the urge to take a photo of it, but know better. It’s best I keep waking and get out of here, kissing Eren isn’t a huge deal, and surely I’ll be fired even if I didn’t quit. Something in me wanted to leave this school, for good. Hange will lecture me, scold me, but somehow it was worth it. Hearing the kid ramble on about how bad of an idea this is, inhaling smoke in old hallways, knowing that he can be in my arms without consequence makes this worth it. 

On the steps, I hoist the briefcase I always brought in into Eren’s arms, “Oi, make yourself useful, I’m sick of carrying this, plus I want to light another.” 

“No.” he snaps, dropping an accessory that probably cost more than both of our rent combined, “Not until you tell me why.” 

“Huh?” I glance up at his stolid fire eyes as I pump the tiny wheel with my thumb, “Kid, if I have to say it, then I should just turn around now, get on my knees and beg for my job back.” 

“Levi.” He nearly shouts, gripping my shoulders tightly, damn he was close, “Don’t. Not for me.” 

Frowning, I shove him off, starting the cigarette; crushing the old one beneath my shoe, “Fuck you. Don’t make this so dramatic, Eren, it’s not that complicated.” 

He mutely seethes, predictably following me to my car, crossing his arms as he watches me unlock it and get in. Without permission, he claims the passenger seat as if he owned the damn thing. The seatbelts click, he leans back into the overly worn leather, his eyes on me, “…you’re not making any sense right now.” 

“I’m an artist.” I reply, starting up the car, backing out, “Nothing I do makes sense. Why I didn't become a doctor, go to college and have 2.5 kids will always puzzle society and…” 

“And what?” 

Another deep inhale of the cigarette before I flick it out the window, “My father.” 

Eren goes dead silent for a few moments, “…do you not like your father?” 

“I’m not discussing this with you.” 

His butt hurt radiated from the other half of the car as I head towards my apartment, “Where are we going?” 

“My loft. I want to paint you again…probably for the last one of the little collection I’ve started up. I might do one more after todays. Assuming you’ll still be a good model without the leverage of extra credit hanging over my head.” 

Quiet for a few moments before he wets his lips audibly, shifting in his seat, “I want payment.” 

“I don’t have much money. What do you want? Alcohol?”

“No.” he snaps a bit too harshly. 

“What then?” 

Killing the ignition, now in the apartments back parking garage, the second the engine stopped his hands were around my jaw. Forcing my body in an awkward contorted position he crushes our lips together, his teeth nibble on my lower lip for a millisecond before his tongue starts to work in my mouth, nearly dragging a moan from me before he stops. Breathing heavily, lips still lightly touching he tenderly strokes the skin under his fingertips, “You.” He whispers, voice trembling, “No money, just you for an hour.” 

“You want me as your whore for an hour?” 

He frowns, retracting his hands from me, sitting upright, “You’re a bastard sometimes, Levi.” Exhaling he rubs the back of his neck nervously, “I want you, only you, whether that hour leads to sex or Netflix, I don’t care. I just want to be with you. It doesn’t make sense, I know I sound crazy, and I’m so sorry I left after yesterday…I’ve never been so attracted to someone before.” He puts a hand over mine, squeezing it tightly, “Besides, it’s a pretty cheap price for the beautiful paintings you create.” 

What was with this kid? How was it that he was able to speak so eloquently yet so sincerely that it nearly breaks my heart? No one talks to me like this, absolutely no one. However, this teenager that barely knows me has cracked the exact verbal formula to come dangerously close to convincing me to let my guard down for him. 

“Damn you, Eren Jaeger.” 

He smiles gently at me, bringing my hand to his lips, faintly kissing the knuckles, “Damn me, Levi.” 

Reclaiming my hand, I pop open the door only to slam it behind me, “You get your damn hour after I paint you. Understand?” 

A large, dumb grin threatens to break that damned tanned face, “Yes sir.” 

Those words sent a taught sensation against my groin. Biting my lip, I refuse to let his effect show. Gripping the keys tightly in my hand, I walk to the garage entrance to the building, not having to wait long for Eren to catch up so I could open the door to the tiny lobby only to wait for the elevator. Out of my peripheral, I watch him shift where he stands, those large eyes drifting back to me then to the large metal doors. 

They part, we enter. 

The moment they shut, his hands are on me, roughly shoving me into the wall, his lips eagerly against mine, tongue and lips scraping on mine, which instinctively return his embrace. One hand pins my shoulder to the wall, the other laces with my hand, bringing it above my head, pinning it there as he near desperately starts to rub his groin against mine. Unwinding beneath his lips, his hold, a deep moan shudders from my breath, the body he was slowly claiming as his own crumbling against the wall. This brat is dangerous, so incredibly dangerous, he’s a toxin I can’t get rid of, even if I wanted to. It’s as if he’s read a manual on how to turn me on in an instant and continuously uses that against me. 

A soft ding alerts us that we’re at our floor, somehow in that whirl-winded mess he had managed to hit the proper button. Parting, he stares at me, searching my face for a moment, his hand stroking my cheek gently, “Can I have my payment before we paint?”

“Absolutely not.” I mutter, shouldering past him, “Model, they get paid, not the other way around.” 

I could hear him smile as he leaves the elevator to follow me. Damn, how I wanted to ‘pay’ him then paint him. My mind could only hypothesize how fucking sexy he would look lain out on my floor, breathless and disheveled after intercourse. Opening the door to my loft, he slips past me, setting his bag on the kitchen table carefully, as if the thing was made of glass. I place my briefcase on the kitchen counter, heading to the fridge to pour a glass of water. 

“You want anything to drink?”

He tears his gaze from a photo of Hange and I at a jazz club a few years back, “Sure. Whatever’s cold is fine.” 

“Beer or water?” 

“Beer.” He exhales, straightening his posture, “After today, a drink sounds really good.” 

Breaking the cap off, I discard it to the trash, handing him a bottle, “Do you drink often?” 

“I try not to, but when I do I make sure to watch myself. Alcoholism runs in the family.” he takes a deep few drinks, sighing, “So. How do you want me posed?” 

“Remember the sheet idea when you practiced your poses? That’s how I want you. Strip and lie down how we discussed facing the easel, I’ll go get a sheet.”

No snarky comeback sounds from him as he relieves himself of his shirt, folding it before laying it on the couch. As I enter my bedroom, looking for my spare sheets, the shifting of those Abercrombie jeans leaving his body comes from the living room, then the gentle pat of him placing what I assume to be his underwear atop that. Swallowing thickly, my fingers curl into the folded sheets in the closet, already my heart rate was up from the mere thought of him stark naked on my floor. 

Sheets in hand, I return to the living room, he was draped on the hardwood just as I told him too, a glazed look in his eyes as he stared off into nothing. I’m not sure what this kid did to keep in shape, but whatever the hell it was, it did wonders for his body. It didn’t seem real at how well defined he was, tall and limber, well cut and rounded. He was sharp, yet still tangible and inviting enough to not be off-putting. Kneeling before him, I snap the sheets out of their folded position, his stare shifts to me as I carefully drape them across his genitalia and legs, bringing it up around his arms, forming it to look like he was casually napping in them.

Taking his chin in my hand, I join our lips together, savoring a deep, long kiss, reveling in that sweet, crisp taste that came with his kisses, “I want you to think about me.” I order him, “And only me. Do you understand?” 

“Yes.” He breathes as I leave him to hide behind my tools, ready to immortalize him once again.

…

The paintbrush applies the last and final stroke to the floorboards, which were fading out of view once they were closer to the voyeur’s eye. Eren was on the horizon, a perfect love-struck expression on his features, body relaxed under the sheet, those eyes locked on something no one but him could see. Igniting a new cigarette, I walk over to him, standing over him, starting the tiny fire between my teeth, “Done.” 

His impossibly large eyes shift to me as he rolls over to his back, flashing a radiant smile, “That one lasted longest.” 

“Fabric is a bitch.” 

“So is lying on a wooden floor.” He stretches a hand to me, curling his fingers in a beckoning movement, “Payment please.” 

“What do you want?”

He grazes his lower lip with his teeth, “Your cigarette.” 

“I thought you didn’t smoke.” 

“I don’t. I just want it out of your mouth so I can…” he blushes, running a hand through the front of his hair, inhaling deeply, puffing his chest as he shifts under the sheets. He’s adorable, in the most seductive way. This kid has no idea how attractive he is, especially when he’s in a vulnerable position like this. 

Kneeling beside him, I extinguish the cigarette on the sole of my shoe, flicking the butt somewhere in the room, “Your hour starts now, kid.” 

A hand lazily traces my knee as he smiles at me again, “…okay.” He replies, sitting upright, stretching again, tightness in his back sounding with a chorus of breaks. Leaning closer, he whispers, “Come here.” Then joins our lips together, through the action I feel him smile, a gentle sigh escapes him.

Moving closer to him, I reach up to hold his jaw, stroking the defined bone, sliding onto his lap, suppressing a shiver as his hands run up my back underneath my shirt. He deepens the kisses, doing so rougher, as he pulls the shirt off my body, breaking off our joined lips, depriving me of his delicious taste to continue on my chest. His mouth and teeth nibble and tease my collarbone, nipples, causing me to wrap arms around him tightly, pressing close. 

“You’re so beautiful…” I moan, running my hands over his upper arms, loving the feel of the firm muscle, “…so young.”

He presses his lips against my cheek, stroking the back of my head, “You’ve told me many times…”

Moving away from him, I crave to have a cigarette or even a shot of something in my hand, “Are you sure you want involved with me? I’m…” I struggle to find the right words that would warn him but not scare him away.

“I know.” He replies softly, straddling my lap now, holding my face, as he stares at me with those large, ocean eyes, “I want you, Levi.”

Thoughtlessly kissing him deeply, arms come up to wind around his torso, giving him a tight squeeze, “Don’t say I never warned you.” I murmur against his lips.

“Nothing you could say could make me leave at this point, Levi.” He whispers, hands digging between my shoulder blades.

No one has ever been this genuine or persistent before, never. I wanted him, craved him, with ever fiber of my being. I needed him beneath me, writhing in pleasure, crying out my name as I pleasured him, made him mine and mine alone. Gripping him by the ass, I force him more forward in my lap, struggling slightly to stand upright with him in my arms, gaining a soft squeak of uncertainty from him as he only clings tighter.

Lips against his neck, I work to leave dark marks on his caramel skin, carefully stepping backwards to the couch, shocked by how heavy this kid was, he was at least three times heavier than he appeared. But I didn’t care. I refuse to take him on the floorboards; the least I could do for him was fuck him on the couch. At least I have never fucked Petra on that couch. 

A sharp nagging pain hit my chest, dissolving into my heart. Petra…what was she to me now that I had Eren? I’m not gay, not by a long shot, her body aroused me, but not in the way Eren’s did, not the way his kisses ignited my blood. She was fragrant, delicate and strong, like a glass flower. But Eren, he was like a drug, one that engulfed me wholly in this blinding passion I was ignorant to until our bodies connected. 

He was too heavy, I had to drop him, barely making the couch, quickly climbing atop him, pinning him by the shoulders to roughly kiss him, passing it off as an act of inability to wait. His fingers reach up to tug on ebony locks, tangling as they twist, hurting with a stimulating pain. I liked this, him doing that to me. His short nails shift, racking down the spine, sending intoxicating chills down it as he moves his head, trailing his tongue along my shoulder, neck, then all over my ear. His breath was in my head, all of me as he panted, releasing aroused breaths, moaning my name, “Levi…” he groans, pushing up against my pelvis, “Levi…”

Damn it, the things those words did to my body, it wasn’t fair. 

Suddenly, his hand was cupping my crotch; a sigh of pleasure leaves me as he squeezes the area, his fingers massaging the balls, palm moving to work on the shaft. Abruptly claiming a handful of his hair I wrench his head back, forcing his head into the couch. Bending over him I hiss, “Undress me.” Red flares beneath his sun kissed skin as he wets his lips, the power in his strong body capturing me, shoving me into the furniture, hands working fast to obey the order.

I’m not sure when the pants left my body, nor my underwear, all I could focus on was him, how his tongue was in my mouth without warning, claiming me in a way no one has ever dared before. He slaps my ass, a loud popping noise sounding off the barren walls as he pants in my ear, “Let me…” he begs, the flesh of his erection rubbing against mine, “Please let me…” 

“Let you what?”

“Take you.” He nearly whimpers, “Levi, I can’t hold it back… I want you so bad.”

Blood drains as I close my eyes, how had this backfired so perfectly? Or it would be perfect were I the one on top, asking his permission to claim him. I’d be fine with him having me; at least I would if my body wasn’t a virgin to this sort of sin. Better now than never I suppose. 

“If you have to ask…then I don’t want to.” I reply moving my head to look him dead in the eyes, light flood his as he grins, that big dumb grin that caused me to feel lightheaded. 

Crushing our lips he strokes my hair again, “…alright.”

With one arm, he positions himself between my legs, guiding my legs around his hips, my nether regions experiencing an exposure they never had before. His other hand places two fingers to my lips, tracing the bottom one as he utters a single command, “Suck.”

Opening my mouth, I take his two fingers, suckling on them eagerly, swirling my tongue around the two digits, knowing good and well where this was headed. He retracts the fingers with a muted pop, rubbing them against my entrance, body stiffening I let out an immediate inhale, eyes snapping shut. He kisses my forehead, maintaining his movements, running a single fingertip around the perimeter, the other beckons on another area, the sensations starting to send a swelling in my stomach, body gradually starts to relax.

Delivering a swift kiss he leads them down my neck, chest, stomach, reaching my member, giving some attention there before he grips my thighs, lifting my calves onto his shoulders, replacing his fingers with his tongue. Swallowing back a loud gasp, I throw a hand over my mouth, eyes wide, speechless at how amazing that felt. His tongue darted, swerved and wiggled around in that area, gripping my body in an intense pleasure, legs tremble slightly as fingers grip his messy hair tightly. 

Fuck, this kid knew too much, way too much. He’s experienced, so much so that those large, seemingly innocent eyes are the most deceiving lie I’ve ever born witness to. 

Fingers replace tongue as he slowly pushes one finger inside me, a loud inhale breaking the silence. As if he understood, he kisses my neck sympathetically, distracting me by beginning to pump my shaft. God, this was awful, it was like a prostate exam, but erotic. His finger starts to move in the way mine would inside all of the women I’ve lain with, another soon joining. Parting his fingers, he starts to stretch the area, earning a deep groan from me, one not of pleasure but uncertainty. 

Removing them he finds his way back between my legs, arching himself so that his member was poised at my entrance and his lower abdomen was against my own erection. “Relax.” He murmurs, licking his lips, “It’s going to hurt at first.”

“I don’t need you to talk me through sex like some middle school virgin.”

He chuckles, shaking his head as he buries it in the crook of my neck, “…okay.” He replies, slowly starting to push himself in thrust by small thrust. 

It felt horrible. Like shitting backwards but worse. I wanted him out. Is this what it’s like for women when a man takes them? If so, I formally owe all of them an apology. Eren lets out a shuddered sigh as he moans, “God you’re so tight…” he chokes, waiting for my body to adjust, “Levi…you’ve got to relax…”

“I’m…trying…” I snap back, not wanting to admit to him that I was as much a virgin as most middle schoolers in this area of sexual intercourse. 

Stroking back my hair again, he joins our lips together, for a deep, sweet kiss, drawing my mind away from the pain in my ass and to the delicacy that was Eren’s kisses. Holding him closer I return the kisses, barely noticing as he starts to thrust into me, doing so slowly, carefully, as if afraid I would break, which I very well might, the kid was not lacking in the length or width department by any means. Gradually the pace picks up, as it does my body adjusts, part by part, but nothing was overly pleasurable, I still wanted him out, but refused to ask that of him. 

Turning my face away, I focus on breathing, burying into the couch, hating that this is how this happened, me beneath him, at his mercy. He kisses my ear, “Do you want me to stop?”

I shake my head, “N-”

Cut off from my own words, I was interrupted by a pleasure I had no idea could come from the awful feeling of anal intercourse. It was like that one time in the doctor’s, he hit my prostate a bit too hard resulting in a less than joyous experience. But this, this was different; it was that times ten, it shook my body in a way I cannot even begin to describe. Hips buck upwards to his eagerly, impatiently, body demanding more of this feeling.

Picking up the hint, he roughly grabs my hips, lifting them up, repositioning himself as he goes at his fastest pace; breathing coming out in hoarse exhales. Everything faded into that white like before, I knew my mouth was slack, eyes closed, body curled into a writhing position, a slave to that euphoria delivered to me by his touch. Eren displayed no mercy, all I could barely focus on was his voice, moaning my name, his embrace adding to the high as the orgasm hits, tearing throughout me with a force that left me breathless.

The high fades away, brain affirms where I am, on my couch, in Eren’s arms, pressed against his sweaty chest as he rubbed my shoulder soothingly with his thumb. I was still breathing heavily, throat was dry and felt like someone had shoved cotton down it for years. Eren moves, smiling at me caringly, hugging me closer to his chest, saying nothing as he buries his face in the crown of my head, inhaling deeply, no doubt smelling my shampoo.

“Not bad, Jaeger…not bad at all.” 

He laughs under his breath, “Thanks.”

“So…dinner?”

“I would like that.” He replies from my hair, “But I still have fifteen minutes, and I’d like to spend it holding you…if you don’t mind.”

Closing my eyes I smile, relaxing my sore body into him, surrendering to him, “I don’t mind, Eren.”


	12. Eren

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Eren's POV  
> Returning from a weekend in Levi's apartment, Eren deals with the consequences of leaving his life to be with Levi as well as receiving some news from Mikasa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO long chapter is long but I really wanted to show Eren's life and what he's going through instead of just having a fluff chapter of him and Levi frick fracking, eating together and yep :3
> 
> Also thank you guys so so so so much for your comments, they are so encouraging and really are helping me see what I'm doing right and how your feel on the fic. I'm happy you all seem to be enjoying it, I can't thank you enough for taking your time to read it! <3

“Eren Grisha-Alexander Jaeger. It’s been two and a half days, where the hell have you been?!”

The door slams as small firm fingers dig into the flesh of my upper arm, wrenching me through the threshold of my shared dorm room. Slightly disoriented, I turn to stare into the large, furious sky blue eyes of my best friend, Armin. He was wearing his lounge clothes, which meant he probably had hardly left the dorms, my phone had thirty missed calls and two hundred and forty six missed text messages from him. Plus, he swore, Armin never swears.

“Sorry, sorry, I got a bit…caught up.” I reply, flashing him a smile, trying to sneak past him, hoping the sweatshirt Levi gave me would be enough to hide the horrible hickies all over my neck.

“Caught up with what?” he snaps, side blocking me.

“Studying. Yeah, Intro to Organic Chemistry is kicking my butt; you know I’m more of an inorganic guy. A kid at the law school in town offered to help me. We got a bit carried…” 

He wasn’t buying it. One bit.

Exhaling I close my eyes, bracing for a punch to the chest, “…I was with him.”

“Him, who?”

“Levi.”

A swift punch stifles my breathing for a moment, “Damn it, Eren!” he walks away, I open my eyes, watching his small, limber form quiver in frustrations, his fingers comb through his perfect hair, “…you know he’s in a ton of trouble for what he did in your class right? Grabbing your crotch and then kissing you? Then you spend-”

“Whoa, what?”

He whirls around to face me, “Excuse me?”

Laughing I shake my head, “No crotch grabbing, get your facts straight, just a kiss, a simple, innocent kiss. Plus he quit so…”

Armin shakes his head, lips pressed into a fine line as he waggles his finger at me, “No. No so. I don’t think you realize how bad of a position you’re in right now Eren! The school is going to think that you’ve whored your body out for your grades! And Rivialle is probably going to be put in jail.”

I stiffen. Levi had mentioned the consequences during one of our pillow talk sessions yesterday.

“…you know, it’s not exactly smooth sailing from here, kid.” He had murmured, resting on my chest, smoking that stupid e-cigarette, “We are both in a fuck ton of trouble.”

“I won’t admit to anything.” I insisted, shifting to look him in the eyes, I wanted him to see how serious I am about him, I mean I had spent the past twenty four hours in this guy’s bedroom, letting him paint me, have sex with me, cook for me, by this point I was dangerously close to buying a ring just to ensure that he would stay mine, “Anything they accuse me of, or you of, I’ll deny it.”

He shook his head, hair a bit fluffy and messy from intercourse, “No, don’t. They won’t call you in, I’ll handle it. Worse case scenario…I go to jail for a few months, or get sued.”

“I hope you get sued.”

He blew fake smoke into my face, lightly slapping my chest, “Thanks, brat.”

Although, if Levi went to jail, I’m sure he’d look fucking hot in those jumpsuits.

“Oh, he’ll handle it. That’s really nice of him, Eren!” Armin seethes, pacing the room, “He’s lying to you, he’s just using you, and will probably sell you out to the dean, and guess who’s going to be expelled?”

Frowning, I step closer to him, “Levi’s not like that Armin!” I snap, “You don’t know him!”

“Neither do you!” he nearly shouts back, face red.

Swallowing thickly, I avert my stare to the floor, running a hand through my hair through my hair. He was right, I barely knew Levi, yet I felt so close to him it would normally scare me if I didn’t want him so badly. I knew enough; I could read him easier than I could most people. I knew he had been through a lot; he had been shot five times in his life, he was an artist, alcoholic, addicted to nicotine, half Japanese, an amazing chef, an only child, a bachelor and most importantly he was my lover. That last fact was all I needed to know for the time being so far as Levi was concerned. I hated it, but I knew I already loved him, after spending two and a half days with him, it was so clear.

He rubs the side of his face, closing his eyes, “…I’m sorry. I was just really worried, you vanished without saying anything for two days.”

“I should’ve texted.” Walking up to him I place a hand on his shoulder, giving it a warm squeeze, trying to comfort him best I knew how, “I wasn’t thinking, I’m sorry. But I know what I’m doing when it comes to Levi. “

Brows furrowed, he had started furiously packing his briefcase, shoving folders, papers and pens into it then snapped his open laptop shut, “No Eren, you don’t.” he replies softly, standing upright, firmly gripping his accessory, “But, I’ll at least do you a favor by not saying I told you so when you’re in fifty million pieces like you were when Jean…”

Inhaling sharply, I close my eyes, holding up a hand, shaking my hand, “Jean was a mistake. He’s a liar and a bastard.”

His lips fall into a fine line as he looks away; he knew he went a bit too far bringing up Jean like that, “…anyways. There’s a party tonight, Marco came by yesterday to invite you.”

“A party on a Sunday night?”

“It’s college.” Armin shrugs as he cracks a smile, “We should go, have a few beers, unwind and have fun.”

“Like old times?”

“Like old times.” He nods, “Oh, Mikasa is about ready to rip your face off since she hasn’t been able to get ahold of you in the past few days. I’d go and stop by her dorm if I were you.”

A sinking dread settles in my chest, these past few days tangled in Levi’s bed sheets and arms Mikasa was at the back of my head, as was the reason she’d be so pissed at me. It was nice to be with him, he felt perfect in my hold, his lips were intoxicating and as much as I hated his smoking and drinking, the scent of nicotine paired with his wine tinted kisses were almost too comfortable. His loft downtown was a personal retreat, where I just model and make love to this man that had consumed me. We had good nights together, lying on the floor, in his bed, on the couch with a home cooked meal between us and a few glasses of wine. 

I could still see it, his smile. Never had I see something so beautiful in my life as that smile. He was lying on the floor beside me, propped up on one elbow, hair slightly messy as he set his glass down from a quick drink, an off balance finger pointed at me as the smile spread on his mouth. His eyes crinkled slightly on the edges, showing off the starts of crow’s feet, pale blue eyes seemed to light up to a brighter shade as his perfect teeth shone through. That hardened expression melted away to a relaxed, happy one as he shook his head, a brief laugh escaping him, “You’re so full of shit.” He had muttered, a smirk on his lips as he leaned over, joining our lips, his tongue darted out, swiping along my lower lip, “And you also eat like a toddler. You had pasta on your lip.”

I’d eat like a child for my entire life if Levi’s tongue was what cleaned the mess up afterwards. 

“Eren, are you listening?”

“Yeah.”

“Ten. We’ll leave at ten. Be back around two, I can’t be out past two.” Armin reminded me, moving to the door.

“Ten, got it.”

“See Mikasa.” He near threatens with a point in my direction before exiting. 

Sighing I take a seat on the bed, pulling off Levi’s shirt, rubbing the sores left on my skin from him. He knew how to bite, I’ll give him that no arguments there. Shedding my jeans, I strip naked, placing the clothes in the dirty clothes hamper under the bed, catching my reflection in the mirror. I looked like a wreck but there was a glow to my skin, sort of how people describe how brides seem right before their wedding. My hair was a complete mess, there was a long trail of love bites all around the neck area, trailing down to the collarbone, chest and the small bastard even found a way to leave them on my back. Chuckling I skim fingers over the small inflammations, remembering how I got these.

Levi was poised behind me, his hands firmly gripped my hips, pressing me into his mattress, and I had to turn my head to the side in order to breathe properly. He was roughly massaging the skin under his hold as he led a line of kisses down my spine, showing no mercy with what his teeth and tongue could do to my skin. A loud moan tore from me, erection eagerly throbbing into the sheets. For a man who was barely over five foot three, he was not lacking below the belt by any means. 

It was actually a shock to see it; I was curious how the hell it worked out with his proportioning. His hands were large but his feet were tiny. Cute, but tiny. I was a size twelve and Levi’s feet couldn’t possibly be over half that. But his cock defied the big hands big feet theory. 

“No.” he rasped in my ear, rubbing the skin above my own member, he began to thrust inside me, “Moan my name, Eren.”

“Levi…” I obeyed, curling my fingers into his perfect white sheets.

He thrusted abruptly, biting the shell of my ear, speaking in a half moan, “Louder, Eren.” He gripped the organ that needed attention, thumb flicking over the sensitive skin.

The man, as straight as he swore as he was, knew exactly how to touch a man, making the entire implication that he was an ass virgin less and less likely. But he got what he wanted, a loud groan of his name slipped from my mouth, body completely surrendered to him. 

“Good…” he whispered, his own voice tight from pleasure as he continued to move inside me, “Eren…Eren…”

Tearing my gaze from the mirror, I pull on fresh underwear and jeans, liking the fact that I had a piece of Levi’s clothing, so I put that back on. Plus, I don’t own anything with this high of a neck. It was surprising that he had something that even fit me considering our size difference, but he said it was left behind by a friend of his and it even fit her too big, but he liked to wear it on what he called ‘lazy days around the house.’

Sliding it over my head I imagine it was Levi doing the action, his able hands tugging the garment around my body, smoothing it out, cold eyes affirming it fit. “Well…you and her are about the same height…and I’m pretty sure she bought this from the man’s section. She does that.”

“Who’s she?”

“Hange.” He frowned, lifting the turtleneck up as high as it could, “An old friend, also my agent of sorts for my art.”

“She must be pretty muscular.” I smirk, shocked at how well the sweater fit.

He shrugged, his hands rested on my shoulders, “It’s big on her too. But it should cover the evidence I’ve left on you…hungry?”

“Starved.”

Walking to the closet, I take one of those zip up sweaters from Abercrombie, slipping it all the way up, hoping it matched my usual look well enough so that Mikasa wouldn’t get suspicious. Combing out the mess of hair, I pocket my phone, quickly checking it for Levi, seeing nothing but a few emails. He was probably asleep or job hunting. Before I left he said he’d have to bust ass to find a new job to replace the one he quit.

Slipping my wallet in my back pocket, I leave, heading to the stairway to walk up to Mikasa’s room, which was on the top floor. Moving her in was hell, but she helped thankfully. Since she’s in the gifted program she can be in the nicer rooms meant for upper classmen. At her door, I give it a few swift knocks, from inside I hear some shuffling, Mikasa’s quiet voice and a soda hiss open. A few seconds later the door swings open, a half dressed Sasha in the doorway, a knowing smirk spreading behind her Pepsi as she steps aside, “Well well, come in, come in Jaeger, I’ve started serving the last of Steven.” 

Mikasa firmly sets her pen down, cutting her roommate a stern glare, “Stop calling the meat that. And finish up eating it before someone catches you.”

Sasha shrugs, opening the lid to her Crock-Pot, stirring around the contents, “I added carrots. Eren, do you like carrots?”

“Carrots are fine.” 

“Excellent.”

My adopted sister shifts in her seat, reaching out to hold my forearm, bringing me closer to her, “Hey.” She greets softly, wrapping her arms around my waist, resting her head on my stomach, relaxing as I return the embrace, “…why haven’t you been answering your phone.” A sharp inhale sounds as she unzips the second layer, inhaling Levi’s sweater, “…why do you smell like Windex and cigarettes?”

I shrug, quick to zip up the sweater, “It’s uh, something I picked up from Goodwill, I haven’t washed it yet.” 

Sasha cackles from the pot, “You don’t shop at Goodwill, Eren, you’re not like Ymir or Historia back when they were a thing, always antiquing together.” She shoots me a mischievous smirk, “It’s probably from Professor Sexy, you ran after him like Prince Charming when he walked out of class on Thursday.”

Mikasa stiffens, frowning, “What?”

“Yeah.” Sasha nods, “Eren painted Professor Sexy hot and bothered, Professor made this speech on emotions, painting, blah blah, kissed Eren and was pretty much like ‘fuck the system’ and walked out. Eren pretty much bolted after him.”

“What is she talking about, Eren?” she demands, cutting her eyes into me.

I shrug, “The professor developed this weird crush on me, kissed me and quit.”

“Please.” Sasha exhales, “You two eye fuck all during class.”

“I do not eye fuck! Especially not with teachers!”

“Eren, lower your voice.”

“But I don’t!”

“No one cares that you’re gay, Eren, stop pretending to hide it to obviously. Everyone could hear you and Armin fucking that one time.” Sasha replies dully, forking some meat, shoveling it into her mouth, stabbing a carrot, offering it to me.

Mikasa fingers her scarf, “Stop being gross, Sasha, Eren isn’t like that. Him and Armin had that fling, figured it out and that’s it.”

“Right.” I agree softly, hating that I had to hide, but it was better this way. At least until Levi was undoubtedly mine, then I would be willing to come out, rainbow flags blazing. Clearing my throat I turn to Mikasa, “So what did you want to talk to me about? I’ve been busy with a group project, Armin said you wanted to talk…”

She nods, standing, taking my hand, giving it a warm squeeze, “I did…let’s go for a walk. I need to take my eyes off my calc homework.”

God damn it, I hate walks. Walks mean cab rides, and cab rides mean hospitals and hospitals mean situations that I really do not like to face. By my hand she leads me out the building, starting a leisurely pace down the street, maintaining a firm grip. She forgot a coat and she was shivering slightly. Mikasa worked out so much; she hardly had any body fat and had this thing where she got cold easily. Breaking our hands, I take off the zip up sweater, helping her into it, smiling fondly at the sight of it swallowing her, signature red scarf tumbling out from the neck gap. Her chin length jet black hair swirls around her face in the wind, her fingers gather the material under her chin while the other hand still keeps a firm hold to mine. We’ve always been close, to the point to where people have thought us to be dating, and yeah, she had this long term crush on me, we have kissed a few times, but it never felt right for me.

Thankfully that didn’t effect our relationship at all. If anything it made us stronger, more comfortable with one another. I was just never sure on how she would handle knowing I was gay. It would almost seem like I was just joining the bandwagon since Armin had come out months ago. She was really good about Armin’s confession, he cried as he clung to her, she stroked his sleek blond hair, promising him that she saw him no differently than she ever did before.

“…I got a call from the hospital the other day.” She starts, voice so quiet it was almost hard to hear her, “Mom’s back in her room downtown.”

Shit. That meant that the cancer was back.

“What else did that say?” I question as we stop, she guides me to sit beside her on a bench, holding my hand tighter.

“That it’s back, Eren.” She informs me, sad eyes on mine; “…they don’t know how well she’s going to handle chemo a second time around. But they’re hoping that another full dose will send her back into remission again. Just like it did last time.”

“Remission always seemed to be too good to be true.” I whisper, closing my eyes, immediately seeing her in that mechanical bed, thin and waif-like with her hair in her usual side style, hands folded on her stomach, IV port in her collar.

“It was a blessing.” She insists, moving closer, “She’s strong, Eren, incredibly strong. I have faith that she’s pull through…you and her are so much alike. You’re both like rocks, barely having much common sense but you’re wills are unbent and you’re so stubborn and refuse to take no as an answer. I was able to call her from her room; she wants us to visit once a weekend but to mainly focus on our work. Thankfully Grisha’s decided to take on full college expenses. For mine anyways.”

A frown pulls my lips as I fight to not get angry at the sound of that man’s name. Fuck Grisha Jaeger, fuck him to fucking hell. At least she doesn’t call him ‘Dad’ anymore, that would make things so much harder, and Mom’s stopped calling him ‘my father’ after all of the shit he’s drug us three through. He’s in rehab now, for shooting up on medicine he stole from the hospital and for his anger management. Back in the day he was a good doctor, because of him Mom was able to get the right care she needed, he tended to her between patients of his own. But the stress made him drink more and more; he would become violent, verbally abusive mostly. He’d shout, scream, come centimeters from my face to where I could smell the tequila or gin, feel splatters of saliva.

“Why won’t he also pay my college? Legally he-”

“Legally, yes. You’re right.” Mikasa interrupts, “And Mom’s working to push that, sue and get even more money if he continues to refuse. But he says he’ll pay, no hassle, if you see him.”

“No.” I snap, not realizing I shouted it until a woman walking by jumped, “No I won’t see that bastard! I refuse!”

Placing both hands on my shoulders she gives them a warm squeeze, shushing me, “No one’s making you…not after what he did… I just thought you should know the whole situation. Just in case he tries to find you again.”

“I’ll beat his face in again.” I growl, curling my hands into fists, “I’ll fucking kill him if I have to.” 

“Eren.”

“I’m serious!” I shout, “He thinks he can force…” I squeeze my eyes shut, desperate to block out his last drunk fit, I could almost hear the glass break, wood splinter as he wrestled me to the floor. Gulping deep breaths I shake my head, “…I’ll keep an eye out.”

She kisses my cheek, “Come on…”

…

The number one thing I hate about house parties is the people. No, honestly, it’s always the same group of people that show up to these sorts of things. I could place bets on the exact people, the girls with dresses two sizes too tight event though this is Chicago and cold as fuck, but they don’t care. They’ll stumble around in tight skirts and heels, laughing on frat boy’s arms, making out with each other for Instagram likes. Armin and Mikasa were on either side of me as we walk up to the frat house, lights were pulsing through one window on the first floor, music was pounding while people loitered on the porch and sidewalk with red Solo cups in hand. A few girls give me a once over as we ascend the steps, Armin knocks on the door, it lazily opens for him as he gives us a shrug, slipping inside.

Music beating around us, Mikasa kept close to me, she wasn’t a fan of these ‘keggers’ but with her mass amounts of work, sharing a room with Sasha plus Mom’s returning cancer with Grisha trying to track me down again, we both needed a drink. Or six. 

Stumbling from the kitchen, Jean laughs loudly, high fiving Reiner as his narrowed eyes land on me, “Oh hey, Arlert, see you made it.” He gives my shoulder a rough shove, “And you brought the suicidial idiot.”

“Shut up.” I snarl, Mikasa squeezes my upper arm as she leans in for a welcome kiss to her boyfriend. I never told her Jean and I had been in a fucked up relationship, never had the heart. Plus the way Jean and Marco keep sneaking off together, it’s a matter of time before he’s found out.

“So, Jaeger, I hear you’ve been banging teachers.” Jean starts up the moment Mikasa’s lips left his, “And not just teachers, boy teachers. A plus for a dick up the ass?”

Rolling my eyes, I bite my tongue, today had been shitty enough, the last thing I needed to do was beat up Jean at his own party. Moving to the kitchen, he grabs my shoulder, another fake, loud laugh rips through the air, “Hey, Jaeger Bomb, who the fuck said you could come here, much less go into my kitchen you little fuck?!”

“Fuck off, Horse Face.” I snap, wrenching my shoulder free, glowering at him.

“I invited him!” Armin quips, “Plus Marco stopped by!”

“Yeah.” I sneer, leering close, “Me and your fuck buddy are good friend, fuck face. Go suck a dick and fuck off.”

“I’m not a gay ass faggot, shit face!” he replies, shouting to the point that it was heard over the music, drawing attention. His fingers curl into the fabric of Levi’s shirt, jerking me to him, exposing my neck, I could feel the red hot gaze of Mikasa as she saw them, “Like you’re one to make jokes like that, slut boy! Everyone knows you’re fucking the art teacher!”

Crying in frustration I land a harsh blow to the center of his face, a loud crack sounding from his nose as Mikasa barks out something, her arms around my torso as she wrenches me away, pinning me to the wall with one hand, the other extended to Jean, “Stop with the gay jokes, Jean. No one finds them funny but you, we all know Eren’s straight.” She turns to lock her eyes on me, they shift down to what I expect to be an exposed love bruise on my neck, “Go on, I’ll meet up with you later.”

Gifting Jean another harsh expression I slip into the kitchen, swiping two beers, slipping onto the back porch. It was small, a bit cramped, but there was no one out here except for a couple on the bottom steps making out. Opening the bottle, I close my eyes, downing about half of it, stomach expanding. Exhaling, I close my eyes rubbing my forehead as I hear the back door open and close, a light pair off feet moving, stopping right beside me. Turning, I see Annie’s profile, hooked nose, sleepy blue eyes, pale pink lips and pretty ghost blond hair. She lifts a cup to her mouth, tossing back the contents. Smelled like vodka.

“Hey.” She murmurs, turning to look at me, resting on the railing on the porch.

This was the girl who Levi had sex with, who tricked him into the sex tape and used it against him for her grade. I know I should hate her, severely dislike her, but Annie has only been civil to me in my entire time knowing her. We went to the same high school, even had some classes together. I wouldn’t say we were friends, but we were good enough acquaintances. Not sure what I say I just smile at her.

“I hate parties.”

Smirking I take another swig of beer, “Then why come to them?”

“Bertholdt likes them.” She shrugs, “It beats homework, free booze, plus when Kirstein and you get in a room together, some fairly entertaining stuff goes down.”

“Thanks?”

“It’s kinda dumb though.” She muses, dropping her cup in the house’s backyard, “That Jean bullies you for being gay or whatever. Because he is gay. Reiner’s caught him and Marco full on doing it more than once.”

I shrug, “I don’t really care, it’s stupid.”

“It is…I don’t know why your sister dates him.”

“I think she mainly uses him for sex.” I guess, Mikasa didn’t really like Jean, she liked his body and that was about the extent of her attraction, “Plus with them dating he stays out of my hair.” 

“It’s a win for all parties I guess.”

“Yeah…” onto beer number two, “But he’s right, you know. I’m gay.”

She smirks, expression softening, she was like Levi, they were both so cold and defensive, but when they let the wall down and relaxed, they were beautiful, “Why are you telling me this?”

“Just want someone to know.”

Her hand reaches out, skeletal fingers curl around my hand resting on the porch rail, “I’ll keep it just between us.” She whispers.

“Thank you.” 

The one thing I liked most about Annie was when it was just us, we talked a lot, and did so freely. She was really easy to talk with for some reason, usually she was stiff and borderline angry in classes, but when we were on porches or on couches or alone in kitchens, she became a different person. A person I’m sure only Reiner and Bertholdt see.

“So, I hear you evaporated this weekend. Reiner needed to borrow your chem notes and was bitching about it.” She clears her throat, taking the beer from my hand, stealing a swig.

Was that the big talk on campus? Eren Jaeger evaporates to a retreat with ‘Professor Sexy’ and everyone knows about it? I didn’t know people paid that close attention to me maybe they were bored.

“…I’m seeing someone.” I reply, downing more beer, “Spent most of the weekend at his place.”

A smirk toyed her lips as she inches closer, “Who is he?”

“You wouldn’t know him.” I lie, “He’s older, doesn’t go here.” Anymore.

“How much older?”

“God…like a few years?” How old was Levi? He seemed like twenty five, but that could be wrong.

Her finger pokes my cheek, a smirk still on her lips, “You’re blushing. You haven’t had nearly enough alcohol for that.” She crosses her arms, leaning on the railing, “Must really like him.”

Smiling that warmth that came with thoughts of Levi swell in my chest, “Yeah…I do.”

“Good for you, Eren.” She murmurs, “At least one of us is happy.”

“Don’t say that, you’ll find someone.”

She shrugs, “That’s a nice thought, but unlikely.” Tapping her forearm she looks at me, “I’m hungry. Want to go to Five Guys or something?” 

I wanted to see Levi. I really wanted to see Levi. 

“No thanks, I actually promised to meet him at his place in a bit.” I smile.

She frowns, “Of course you are. Have a good night, Eren.”

She pats my shoulder before leaving. Finishing my beer I slip out the back, I had what I needed from here and now I needed what I can get from my artist. Pulling out my phone I scroll through the numbers, finding Levi’s. Holding my breath, I hit it then put the phone to my ear, standing a few blocks from the house, heart pounding, wondering what it would be like to hear Levi’s voice in my ear from the phone. If he would even answer.

“Mmm…what?” he slurs in my ear, the sounds of people laughing, even clapping in the background, glasses were clinking. Typical Levi.

“Hey, umm…are you busy?”

He lets out a weird yawning noise, “Ah…no. No. No I don’t think I’m busy. Hange…Hange! Hange am I…am I busy?”

He’s too adorable, and the little dork doesn’t know it.

“Uh, yeah, sure, sounds great. I'll ummm...ah, what was I saying...right, I'll meet you at my tree house...um, apartment? Hey, Hange, I live in an apartment, right?” He mumbled, voice at a loud octave, voice cracking a bit, I’ve never heard him like this.

A loud, aggravated sigh sounds as the sounds of a fight for the phone rocks the interference before I hear, “This is Hange Zoe, Levi Ackerman is currently intoxicated and...no honey put that down. You won’t be happy if you ingest that toothpick, Ravioli, who's this?”

Levi Ackerman?

“His…lover.” I respond, wetting my lips.

“Oh. Okay, do you want me to drop him off at your place then?” this Hange asks, “Levi. Levi no. Get down…holy shit stop! I’m so, so sorry miss, he’s doesn’t mean a word he says.”

“I mean every word I’ve ever said ever fucking Four Eyes!” Levi proclaims drunkenly in the background.

Smirking, I close my eyes, “No, just…just tell him I called. Have him call me when he’s well.”

“Okay.” She chirps, hanging up the phone.

With a heavy heart I sheath my phone, deciding to walk back to the dorms. They were a good fifteen minute walk from here, but I didn’t mind. Night walks were calming, they gave me time to think, which lately, I haven’t had too much time to do. Was Armin right about Levi? Was I rushing this? Most would say I was, I barely knew him, but damn it, he makes me happy, so incredibly happy. He’s an ass, he’s rude and he has so many walls up it would take the end of another World War to tear them down, but I was willing to have my fingernails pop out of my fingertips to tear them down. I want to know him, really know him, I want to experience those peaceful mornings in his bed wrapped in his comforter, in him. What I wouldn’t give to wake up every day in that loft, so long as he was beside me every single morning. 

The soft murmur of people speaking behind me draws my walk to slow. There was a voice I knew too well, the voice of the man I knew I was falling in love with.” 

“No…” he groans, the couple passes, a tall woman with messy brunette hair and rectangle framed glasses strode past carrying Levi bridal style, “Sell Petra’s first…I like Eren’s better…”

“Eren?” she repeats, hoisting him up a bit, “The boy you keep painting?”

“Yes…” he whispers, “The teal eyed boy I keep painting…he’s so beautiful Hange…I want to keep him…I want him…”

“That’s sweet, Ravioli.” She muses, turning a corner, in the direction of Levi’s loft.

Standing there in the night of Chicago, the busy whirs of cars slowly rushing past, people walking, lights flickering on, off, I watched Levi and Hange walk down the street they turned on. He had his tattooed arm draped over her shoulder, the geometric orange patterns showing as well as the biblical scene in the dark red. Like a child, his face from the nose up peeked over her shoulder, his eyes were closed but they slowly opened, staring at Hange, then as if sensing I was there, they shift to me.

He lifts himself up a bit in her hold, lazily waving to me before he yawns, receding back into her arms.

I wish I went out to the bars tonight so I could carry him home.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Levi gets a job and the feels train explodes.   
> The end.  
> Also sexytimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry.
> 
> ...someone take the FMA Brotherhood soundtrack away from me, bad things happen when I write.
> 
> Also the song Levi pole dances to is the Lollipop cover by Framing Henley ;)

Not too long after leaving high school a year before graduating Olympia found an ad posted in the Parisian streets, walking into a budding underground business. She moved to America, slowly started to earn enough money for herself, bought a shitty apartment thus beginning to start a life for herself. Through modern technology I can watch her today, in her old audition tapes, talking in French, Japanese and English, trying to impress men with money.

“What’s your name?” the man behind the camera asks.

She smiles softly at him, her slanted, light blue Asian eyes lighting up, “Kuchel.” She replies, her voice always brought tears to my eyes, “Kuchel Ackerman. But call me Olympia.” 

The man chuckles, she runs a hand through her impossibly long black hair, black hair she would later pass onto me, “Olympia? You think you’re a goddess or something?”

“I am a goddess.” She laughs, tucking hair behind her ear.

A long pause, “Yes…” he agrees, she perks up, folding her hands in her lap, “Yes you are…”

Exhaling, I shut the laptop, standing to go into the bathroom, wetting my face to ready it to shave. The bar and strip club downtown had called me in for an interview, it would probably be best to go in looking as clean shaven and somewhat presentable as possible. Staring into the mirror, I follow the contours of my face, careful to not cut or harm the skin. I hated the mirror the next time I found myself in it after watching her videos, because I only saw her in the glass. Her pale skin, heart shaped face, thin eyebrows, pointed chin, Japanese eyes in a light blue and of course the hair, before my father decided I wouldn’t exist anymore, he would always hold me to his chest, petting my hair, murmuring how much like hers it felt like. Kenny would play with it too for the same reason, but instead of saying something, nostalgia lingered in his sad, grey eyes.

Through serious research into porn sites and agencies, I found all of her tapes. Somehow I got Farlan to watch through them and compile the interviews between intercourse for me. Apparently my mother had a penchant for her paid debauchery however, as her son, I do not wish to be enlightened of her talents that are the reason I’m breathing today.

I wish she were alive today so I didn’t have to hear her high-pitched teenaged voice respond to stupid questions to a nameless voice. I wanted her to be here again, to walk with me, listen as I spoke to her about my confusions between Eren and Petra. Maybe even nod me towards a job. But I’m not a kid anymore; I have to go out there to get my own job.

Which I was about to be late to the interview for.

…

Despite being ten minutes late, the interviewer was fifteen minutes more tardy. Sitting at the bar nurses a gin tonic, listening to the clinking of the bar tender cleaning, the women practice their routines on the pole and the calming hum of the AC I cannot help but wonder if my mother ever worked in a place like this. Which I didn’t have to wonder too much, because I knew she did, going through my father’s old albums I found a few shots of her on a table, his hands on her thighs and bills under the band of her too short shorts. 

It’s a sick world we live in that people feel so desperate to keep up that they have to degrade themselves to underground rings like prostitution and drugs. Then again, they are also desperate enough to take the disgusting opportunities lain before them.

Arms against the bar, I glance around the club, not too impressed by the atmosphere of it all, the aesthetic trying to be too business-like yet still clinging to the promise of strippers. It would be a great job, mix alcoholic drinks together, sneak enough to get a buzz plus watch well endowed women flaunt what they paid for or are fortunate enough to have pretending they enjoyed the attention of the pigs throwing money. But hey, they pay for the humiliation, on both ends. The women take the bills of the frothing men, while the men cough up their dignity to obtain such pleasures. It was a win for both sides if one added it up properly, I suppose my mother having been a worker in this life gives me a bit more of a bitter outlook on it. How she used to grind on a pole for my father’s money, how he paid her large amounts of money to keep her mouth shut about his illegitimate child who was not his feared downfall to running for governor but his horrible alcoholic issues, which I unfortunately inherited. 

“Want something while you wait?” the bartender on duty asks.

“No thanks.” I nod, checking my phone to see if Eren had texted, he hadn’t.

A loud clearing of the throat sounds, moving my sight from a stolen photo I took of Eren a few mornings ago I see a tall blond gentleman dressed in an impossibly perfect fitting suit. I felt bad for the suit, his body was so large it made me wonder if he had ever broken a seam with his size, but with the scent of wealth about him, something told me he paid a good price to ensure such a thing did not happen. His face was chiseled, well formed and balanced, with pale blond hair coupled with darker brown undertones flaunted in his slight undercut, the man could’ve passed for a damn male model. 

But his eyebrows-those fuckers were large enough to start their own government.

“Hello.” He grins, extending a formal hand, “I’m Erwin Smith, you must be here about the job opening?”

Standing I grasp his large hand, the damn appendage was the size of my face, “Levi. Yes, I believe we spoke on the phone the night before.”

“We did.” Erwin nods, letting go of the handshake, “Let’s talk in my office. Is there anything I can get you to drink?”

I shake my head, following his large form into the back of the club, down a hallway to a large, abundant in leather office complete with a large oak desk. It could very well have been a secret gentleman’s cigar club instead of this man’s private office. He gestures to the two plush leather seats before his desk, I take the one he doesn’t occupy, staring back at him, unable to notice his piercing blue eyes.

“I have a tight schedule to keep, so I’d prefer to cut straight to business if you don’t mind.” 

“I don’t.”

He gives me a gentle smile, “Very well. What are your qualifications for being a male entertainer? You didn’t have any experience listed on your resume.”

I’m lucky I hadn’t taken up anyone’s offer for a drink; otherwise I’d owe this guy a new suit. “Excuse me?!” I choke out, “I…I applied for the opening at the bar.”

His large brows knit inward, “I think you are mistaken, our only opening is for a male entertainer. The men typically work on the bar end, I could see how you could be confused.”

“That’s one hell of a miscommunication.” I growl, rubbing my forehead before relaxing back into the chair. 

“Indeed.” He chuckles, “Anyhow…you would make quite a good addition to our team. So I’ll give you the pitch anyways.”

“I don’t want to be a stripper.”

“It pays quite well.” He assures me, his expression too relaxed, “You would be expected to be here on the weekends and two to three weekdays. Whatever money you are given by customers or audience members is yours to keep. We do not whore out our dancers, you are not expected to give any sexual favors to anyone unless you fully consent to it and that is only permitted during private shows and events. Regular testing is provided by us should you chose to take on a more intimate choice with your customers, but again, that is not required for your work. I would be hiring you as a dancer, not a prostitute, but should you wish to offer sexual favors for a price, I will not stop you, but I will require a ten percent cut from whatever profit you make.”

“You can stop talking.” I snap, standing upright, digging my gaze deep into the icy cold blue stare below me, “I don’t want to work as an entertainer. I’ll be a bartender, not a dancer.”

He smirks as if I had told a funny joke, “It pays very well. I don’t think you quite understand.”

“Nothing could pay a high enough price to make me do that.” I snap, “Besides, I don’t pole dance.”

Silence engulfs us as his eyes flicker, evaluating me, the imaginary numbers ticking off in his head. “On average, you could walk out of here with five grand a night. Is that a high enough price for you? Plus I would sign you on with an incentive bonus.”

Five grand went a long way for a man like me, which paid the rent and then some. Plus the debt I owed that unlisted benefactor from prison, the drug lords, Hange…a job like this could clear up a lot of those problems. I could buy morphine again, maybe even some marijuana, crack, get into my old vices that cost a bit too much on my budget now. I could take Eren someplace for just us to be us, a nice hotel, show him that I wasn’t some bum artist exploiting his body. But, I don’t dance.

“That’s what I thought.” He replies, standing to walk behind his desk, puling open a drawer to lay a thin contract on the surface, “I’ll have you audition, then we’ll discuss numbers and the job.”

Swallowing thickly I grind my teeth together, furious at my choices. Fuck, this isn’t good. I could hear Hange’s taunting now; feel the repugnance of ravenous eyes grazing my body as I play Magic Mike for strangers. Five grand a night, add that up and debts fade away, investments begin to swell and a future actually seems possible. Yes, there was the slim chance that Eren’s portraits could go somewhere, but it was unlikely. This was my best chance to break away from this hellhole I had built for myself. I’d fake it until I had my money, they I would hang this up forever, pretend it was a phase.

He places a hand on my shoulder, guiding me to a door in a small alcove in the room I would’ve have noticed unless he had pointed it out. Turning the knob he pushes the door open to reveal a small room in black, dark blue and paler colors to not make it seem like a tiny box. There was a small stage with a pole in the center with a small catwalk to a table with an encircling plush couch. Suppressing the urge to run out I hear the door shut then a switch click, pulsing music and lights start up immediately, changing the atmosphere completely. 

Erwin takes a seat on the couch, crossing his legs casually, “Begin when you’re ready.”

Exhaling, I reluctantly force myself to the stage, eyes evaluating it all- the small three steps to the stage, the pole, and catwalk, all of it. Standing there, I attempt to adjust to the sensation of his eyes, cold calculating blue orbs trained on me and me alone. The blond pulls out his phone, scrolling through it, the music suddenly changes, the beginnings of an electric guitar playing, a male voice leaking out of the hidden speakers. Pocketing the devise he nods to me, as if ordering me to dance. 

As if stepping out of Levi and into a different person, I start to walk to the pole, swaying my hips as I’ve seen women do in the clubs like this, but jutting my pelvis further. Gripping the pole I saunter around it, one foot in front of the other cutting my stare to Erwin, imagining that it was Eren where he sits, the brunette with the large blue-green eyes watching me, glistening with lust.

‘Shorty wanna thug   
Bottles in the club   
Shorty wanna hump   
Yeah know I like to touch   
Yeah lovely lady lumps…’

With one hand on the pole, I slip out of the jacket, dropping it to the floor, running a hand through my hair, against the back of my neck and down my chest as I slowly lower my bottom half towards him, arching my body to a position that installed a strange fire in my belly. The guitars of the song pulse in the air, throbbing in my blood as I reach under my shirt, slowly peeling it off, revealing my toned midsection, the red hot gaze of the other heating my cheeks and body as I toss that off.

‘Cute lil' mama had a swag like mine   
She even wear her hair   
Down her back like mine   
I make her feel right   
When its wrong like lyin'…’

Unbuckling my pants, I sashay towards him, taking my sweet time to cross the catwalk to him, carefully running a hand against the innards of my thigh, gripping the organ between my legs, baring my eyes into his, shocked to see genuine lust swirling in the ice. Reaching the second pole I grip it with both hands, swinging my body around it, using the momentum to sway on it. Copying the moves I’ve seen countless times before, I kick my knee against it, using gravity to force my body to twirl around. Activating my abdomen muscles I keep myself upright, lifting my arms and legs higher, rotating faster to continue the spin longer until I finally reach the end of the momentum, careful to stop at a crouch, legs spread wide.

Sweat was starting to gather on my brow as I slowly move one leg back, hands still above my head as I move the other back, at a strange crouching position as I roll onto my back, wetting a few fingers in my mouth. Those fingers move to my chest, playing with a nipple as I fake pleasure, rolling my hips to the song.

‘Call me so I can   
Make it juicy for you   
Call me so I can   
Get it juicy for you…’

Lifting a finger, he curls it to himself, a frozen fire in his eyes as he wets his lips, he wanted me, I could tell. And I needed the money, so I flipped to my knees, dragging myself in a rolling crawl to the edge of the stage where he sat. Jolting to be upright on my knees I spread them as far as they can go to where I can still be comfortable, unbuttoning my trousers then unzipping them. With muscles burning I somehow manage to rise to a standing position while removing the remaining clothing. Taking it off my body I claim a few steps backwards, tossing the trousers at him, leaving me in only my boxers, never happier that they were black.

Gripping the pole I hear the song start to dwindle to its end, I throw myself against it, starting up that spin again, climbing it higher than before, entangling my limbs around it to rise only to gracefully fall right as the track ends. Erwin killed the track; the hard labored breaths from my lips fill the air as he clears his throat, hiding his hands in his pocket in a sad attempt to hide the boner testing the fabric of his pants. He stops before me, tossing the trousers back to me, his own breathing was elevated as he nods, “I’ll draw up the paperwork.” He replies, his voice a gravelly growl as he drinks in the sight of the mostly naked body before him.

It’s been awhile since I’ve behaved this badly.

Lingering in the doorway he turns to face me as I wrangle my trousers back on, the dim lighting seemed to only enhance his electric eyes.

“I never got your name.”

“…its Levi.”

…

Putting up home pole dancing poles is a lot harder than they make it seem on the back of the box. Turns out, the sticky shit that people use to put up paintings and shit does not work, you need a power drill, with screws, to get that son of a bitch to be stable enough to actually dance on. If not, you end up trying to test it out only to have a strange encounter with your dirty clothes hamper and your mirror.

The mirror cut me up in a few places, not anywhere to be bad enough to result in a trip to the hospital, but enough to need a trip to the CVS. While out I passed by Maria Café, a strange wave of nostalgia overcoming me, tempting me to enter. Armin was behind the counter; this place probably ran on his availability come to think of it. He flashed me a gentle smile as I claimed my old spot, ordering my usual drink. 

That stare Erwin gave me during the audition refused to leave my mind even when I exited the club. It was horrible in the most intoxicating way; it sent tightness between my legs as well as my heart. He convinced me that nothing was more important than me in those moments, that no one other than us were breathing in the entire world, that the world didn’t exist outside of that private door. His manners were even stiffer as he walked me through the paperwork, but his generosity with his wallet was lax when it came to debating my signing bonus. Erwin respected the want I had to conceal myself when performing, he allowed me to cover most of my tattoos with concealer as well as wear a wig a few nights a week, otherwise I was to style it differently. 

Now I had yet another name, Lance Corporal. He wasn’t a drug dealer or thug, nor was he a starving artist; he was a promising stripper and pole dancer. He was the one who paid for the other two Levi’s to live.

“Eren really likes you, you know.” A high-pitched, vaguely squeaky voice cuts in, the soft clink of glass on wood sounding.

Feeling the steam of the drink radiate onto my forearms draws my attention to the best friend of my newest lover.

“Do you like him?” he demands, wringing a towel between his hands.

“…why are you discussing this with me?” 

He runs a hand through his long hair, tying it back with an elastic band, “He means a lot to me and his sister, Mikasa. She doesn’t know this, but Eren had someone before…he wasn’t right for him. That guy didn’t know what he wanted and ended up fucking Eren over pretty badly. He’s too trusting, he’s impulsive…” Armin shakes his head, nearly glaring at me, “He may be willing to let himself get hurt again, but I won’t. What are your intentions for him?”

Smirking, I hold the cup between my hands, warming them, “…I’m not sure.” I admit, gaining a worse expression, “But I do care for him.”

“I love him.” He challenges, the towel knotted in his fingers.

Love. My least favorite word in the entire English language, or any language for that matter.

Bringing the tea to my lips I claim a good, deep drink before lighting up a cigarette, a bit surprised the kid didn’t get onto me for it. Taking a long drag I tap the ashes onto a napkin, “You love him.” I murmur, hating the words on my tongue, hating the thought that someone else may hold a hand at taking him from me even though he wasn’t truly mine, “Does he love you?”

A long pause, a defeated muted exhale, “No. Not how I do.”

“I see.”

Smoke dances between us, connecting two souls separated by a common link.

“But I think he might love you.” He admits, the towel drops along with my heart, “I really think he does.” His words were choked, strained, it was painful to listen to, “He’s been gone for the past few days going around behind my back and applying to modeling agencies. He listens to you. Moans out your name when he…” another shuddered exhale, “I’ve never seen him like this. Never. That’s why…” he inhales raggedly, I didn’t have to look up to see tears spoiling his face, “It’s why I…”

“It’s why you need to know that he’s in good company.” I finish for him, extinguishing the cig between my fingertips, wincing at the burn, “You want to be sure whatever he’s planning is for a somewhat stable future.”

He nods, leaning against the counter, “I need to know you’re not the bastard I can tell you are.” He whispers, “I need to have the assurance that I’m giving the man I love to someone I know can take care of him, support him, love him.”

There it was, that word I despised. 

“I’m sorry, Armin. I can’t promise you anything. I am that bastard you see me to be. I’m exactly what you see and worse. But with Eren…that melts away. I can’t explain what that kid does to me, but he does good.” I chuckle, “Makes me smoke more because I’m nervous, but he does good.”

A longer episode of silence.

“That’s not good enough, Levi.” He replies, picking up his towel.

I put the cup back to my lips, about to take a drink until I hear the door open behind me, the footsteps to the man in question pittering into the café. They stop behind me, his hand comes into perhipheral view as he lays a crisp white folder with Garrison Models along the bottom right hand corner. The hand not in line of sight wraps around my torso, pulling me into his chest, his lips gently kiss the crown of my head, for a moment I allow my guard to shatter, leaning into him for a moment, savoring his warmth as he gives me another tiny kiss.

“What are you doing here?” he beams, smile as bright as ever.

Shrugging I clear my throat, allowing him to slip the cigarette out of my fingers as he hands it to Armin to throw away, “Just having a drink.”

“That’s non-alcoholic?” he raises a brow, arm still around me, lips too close, “That’s unusual for you.”

“Cute.” I tease, tapping the folder, “Care to share?”

His smile widens, “I got signed.”

“Pardon?”

He hands the folder to me, “I got signed! To an agency based in New York! They have a location in Chicago, they saw me walking by their building and recognized me as ‘The Teal Eyed Boy’ and asked if I could do some test shots.”

My brows furrowed, ‘The Teal Eyed Boy’ was the name I have given Eren’s collection of paintings. The only person who had seen them was Hange and…oh dear god. I knew she was wanting to sell them, but there was no way even she could sell that collection so quickly, plus I had told her during our night out after the presentation meeting that I still wanted custody of them, that they meant too much to simply sell off for a price tag.

“Anyways.” He smiles, opening the folder to printed photos of Eren topless, staring dangerously at the viewer, his hair messy, lips barely parted and body cocked in an alluring fashion with torn jeans hung too low on his hips, “Here’s my shots for the site, pretty cool huh? Looks like you’ll have a boyfriend who’s a chemistry major and a super model.”

Blood drained from me to somewhere that wasn’t my face. Boyfriend? Since when did we label this? Abruptly standing, my instincts take over, hands barricade me from him, “Whoa there Eren. Yeah, we make out and fuck, but I never said I wanted a relationship.”

He looked like he wanted to cry. His teeth sunk into his bottom lip, Armin’s glare returns as Eren flashes me a nervous smile, rubbing the back of his neck. Wetting his lips he shrugs, “I…sorry it slipped. I know I’m just a fuck toy to you, Levi.” He replies bitterly.

I battle the muscles in my jaw to not dislocate and send my mandible crashing to the ground. Gripping his upper arm I march him into the bathroom, quickly locking the door behind me and throwing him into the orange tiled wall.

“Fuck toy?!” I snap, “You think I see you as a fucking fuck toy, Jaeger?!”

A few shades paler he holds his shoulder, shaking his head, “I…I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Then how did you mean it?” I demand, arms crossed, “We are lovers, Eren. I know adult concepts are pretty fucking foreign to you since you’re playing model and college, but to me and most in our position, it means we are friends, we also fuck, but there’s something else there too that doesn’t just make it fuck buddies.”

“You mean boyfriends!” he snaps, fingers curling into his shoulder, “You’re describing a relationship, Levi! People who have physical and emotional attraction and see each other consistently. Those are people who date!”

“I’m not gay, Eren!” I shout as I take a step closer, “I don’t date men!”

“But you fuck them! You paint them naked! You make them breakfast the next morning! You share your prized liquor collection with them!” he was coming closer and closer to me, eyes alight with emotions I only saw now he was afraid of showing me, “You’re so confusing, Levi! You kiss me, you have sex with me, meaningful sex, not just fucking sex, yet to say shit like you’re not gay!”

“I’m not!” I respond, standing to my fully height, nose to nose with this brat, “My current lover just happens to be a man! Everyone has that one person of their same sex that they are attracted to! Mine just happened to be a fucking brat!”

“Well, this fucking brat is sick of your denial!”

“Denial?!”

“You’re gay, Levi!”

“Call me that one more time, I swear to god, Eren I will…”

“You’ll what?” he sneers, roughly shoving me, I hit the door. 

Armin knocks behind it, “Guys, you’re scaring the one other customer we have in here!” 

“You’ll break up with me?” Eren continues, “We’re not dating, Levi, remember?! We’ll stop having sex? I doubt it. Why? Because you’re fucking gay, Levi! You’re so fucking gay, no one sucks dick and eats ass like that and is straight!”

“You shut your mouth, shitty brat!”

I move to hit his chest but he catches my hand, slamming it into the door, pain radiates throughout the small bones in the area, a short cry drowning in my throat by his lips suddenly against mine. His hand grips mine tightly; as if he were to let go he would let go of all of me. Deeply he joins our lips together, tenderly, gently with a care that I had only seen a handful of times from him in our more intimate moments. Pinning the hand above my head he slips my other wrist beneath his palm to keep both of my hands under his grip.

Skillful lips move against mine, his touch did things to my body I will never be proud of nor will I ever be able to deny. Using his weight he presses me further into the door, placing a knee between my legs, rubbing his knee against my groin, gaining the beginnings of a boner and a growling moan. His other hand runs down my chest, quickly pinching my nipples, sliding down my spine to my ass, giving it a hard slap as if to discipline me, telling me that I was his and his alone, that I was a fool to think otherwise. Eren’s tongue slips into my mouth, exploring and ravaging it like a barbarian, on instinct I fight him, struggling slightly beneath him but know it’s pointless now that he has me like this.

Suddenly, he flips me face first against the door, somehow he had my trousers at my ankles, a hand around my member, he was slowly pumping it, thumb toying with the head. A moan tumbles from my lips, head falling back to hit his shoulder, he grips a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back to look him in the eyes.

“How does it feel?” he rasps against my mouth, hand moving faster, “Tell me, Levi, how does it feel?”

Desperately, the body I once thought I had control over was thrusting mercilessly into his touch, “Good.” I gasp, “It feels good.”

He kisses me roughly, releasing my hair to probe my entrance, “Does this feel good as well you bastard?”

“Yes.” I moan, “Yes…”

Again, he nearly throwing me into the door, my cheek hurts from the brush in with the wood. He breathes hotly into my ear, licking it tauntingly, moaning my name, hands keep working in those tender spots, “Do I make you want to come?”

“Yes…” I pant.

“A man makes you want to come?”

“You make me want to come, Eren.”

He smirks, kissing my cheek, squeezing my balls before slipping two fingers inside, “And you say you’re not gay.”

“I-I’m not.” I gasp, fingers vainly curling into the door, “I’m not…”

“Liar.” He sighs, kissing on my neck, “You’re a filthy liar, Levi.”

“I’m…not.”

“Shut up.” He snaps, curling his fingers inside me, instantly hitting that spot, a loud cry tearing my throat, “Shut up Levi…”

I say nothing as I let him continue, a few more ragged moan tear apart my throat as I come into his hand, hips convulsing in that strong hold, resting against his strong chest. Breathing heavily, that white-hot pleasure that always possesses my body dissipates, as I fall from the high I notice the coolness of he bathroom floor paired with the security of Eren’s arms. His fingers stroke the hair nearest him, face resting atop my head as he kisses the area.

“…are you okay?” he asks gently.

“…I am.”

A deep kiss is delivered to my temple, “I’m sorry. Please…still be my lover. I don’t know what came over me.”

I don’t either, but whatever it was pissed me the fuck off but was also sexy as hell. Eren hasn’t shown his dominate side in a long time; he mostly curbed it for me in the bedroom since he knew I hated penetration, allowing me to lead the games between the sheets. But I knew that there were things he wasn’t telling me; he didn’t need to not be in my apartment for a week for that much to show. Plus this sudden modeling contract, he was doing something behind my back, he thought we were dating.

Turning in his arms, I stroke the side of his face, kissing his lips tenderly, “…don’t label this other than lovers. It’s easiest this way.”

His closes his eyes tightly, “…I want you as mine.” He whispers thickly, gripping me tightly, “I’m so scared of losing you…I need something to ensure that…”

Shushing him I wipe away a tear, gifting him another kiss. Lifting up my hand I show off the rings on my fingers hiding the word ‘slave’ tattooed across my knuckles. On the ring finger was one that belonged to my mother, it was her father’s and too big, so she wore it on her thumb, but it fit my engagement finger. It was plain silver with the etching of two overlapping angel wings one with tiny pieces of pearl, the other of black onyx. Sliding it off, I take his hand, placing it on the same finger; surprisingly it fit, then kissed the metal, staring him in the eyes.

“Give me something of yours.” I murmur against his hand.

Shifting where he sat he pulls out his wallet, revealing a golden key ornate in appearance with a strange diamond sort of shape towards the top of the design, the key was on a thin leather string. Taking it, he unties the string to readjust it, turning it into a makeshift necklace, tying it around my neck, kissing where it hung on my neck. 

Arms wrapped around my torso his face remains buried in my stomach, a tight hold keeping me in place, not like I would want to be anywhere but in his embrace. Tears began to wet my shirt, his body started to shake as ragged sobs tore from him. Damn…was what I said that bad? Did he honestly want to call us boyfriends that badly?

“Eren…” I whisper before kissing his hair, “Eren…hey…Eren…look at me.”

He shakes his head.

“I’m sorry…” I murmur, rubbing his back, “I’m…I’m not gay…I’m not comfortable with calling us boyfriends, but if I honestly means that much to you I could…”

Sitting up he shakes his head, weakly wiping his tears with trembling hands, “It’s…it’s not that…” his eyes glance upwards before his mouth does this awful wobbling movement, “…my mother died two days ago. I’ve felt…alone…I just want…something stable…anything. Mikasa is leaving for France to study abroad…I…”

Impulsively I wrap him in my arms, holding him as tightly as I know how. He collapses against me shivering in grief, his cries ricocheting off the tiled walls and my heart. Stroking his hair I maintain a strong hold on him, refusing to move from this spot unless he was the one to leave first. It had been such a long time since I felt this way, perhaps this wasn’t the right time to say it, maybe I didn’t even know what the words meant anymore, but I think I was learning to understand them, and in this moment, right here and now, I meant them with every fiber of my existence, never will I retake them now or any other time.

“Eren…I love you.”

“…I love you too, Levi.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Business trips, deals and drama, all in a day's work with Levi and Eren, with a dash of Erwin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh damn, this came out so long! But gosh, it took some serious turns I didn't think I wanted to do just yet, but they just kind of happened! Wow. Sorry this took so long to post, it's like ten pages on Microsoft Office Word Processor, and a lot happens, I just couldn't stop typing!
> 
> Phew!
> 
> Sorry for any feels, but these babies are never drama-free!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! I really appreciate you taking your time for doing so, I really hope you are still enjoying the fic!
> 
> Comments and feedback are so so loved <3

He went home with me that night, his blond friend put up quite the fight for him not to, but the kid clearly needed comfort as well as someplace safe to be. It had been three days he spent curled under the bed sheets, three days had passed since that bed was made, Eren barely left it. Standing in the mirror of the bedroom I fix the tie around my neck, Hange had finally returned my calls regarding The Teal Eyed Boy series only to tell me that I was due to a business meeting in New York City. She was paying for the ticket since I hadn’t been able to start up my stripping job with taking care of Eren, I pled family death to Erwin and he took the bait, giving me a week to tie up whatever loose ends I had but refused to give me my incentive bonus just yet.

Carry on suitcase packed with a night’s worth of clothes in case I had to stay the night, I sit on the bed, stroking his exposed shoulder, as always his skin was hot to the touch, even more so burrowed in layers of bedding. 

“Eren…” I call softly, moving my hand to stroke his hair, messy, matted and in desperate need of a shower, “Eren you need to get up to lock the door behind me when I leave in a few minutes.”

Tired, bloodshot eyes peer over his naked shoulder as tears faintly begin to well in them, “…do you have to go?” he croaks out.

“I do.” I exhale, wiping away a tear from his cheek, “I offered for you to come with me…”

“No.” he snaps, receding away from me, “No.”

Nodding I kiss his neck, “That’s fine.” I murmur against his skin, “Just rest.”

His bloodshot, beautiful eyes peer up at me from the mess of brown hair and the sheets. A slightly shaky hand reaches out, gripping the material of the suit comfortably hanging on my body, “…why are you leaving me?” 

Slipping into the bed with him, I stroke his hair along with the side of his face; his cheeks were still tearstained from constant crying. I understood his pain, but I didn’t feel like I was qualified to be his confidant in this situation. We knew each other’s bodies excruciatingly well, but we didn’t know each other nearly as thoroughly. Those large eyes slowly fall closed to the touch as I play with a few strands of askew hairs, “You know I’m not leaving you.” I murmur, resting my forehead against his, “I’ll be back tonight, but to do that I need to leave now. Do you want me to contact Armin or your sister…I’m not sure if you being here alone is a good idea.”

Emitting a noise from the back of his throat he turns on his back, eyes flickering as he searches my face, “Did you mean it when you said you loved me?”

Memories of holding him on the bathroom floor flood back as if we were there this instant, my body still electric from his touch, mind hurting from the news of his mother’s passing. I did mean it, I hated that I fell for someone so quickly and was stupid enough to open myself so easily to him, but something about it all felt natural. Nodding I give him a small smile, “I did. Know it’s not an easy thing for me to love or to love me…”

“I know it’s not.” He laughs softly, “I know…that you’re complicated, Levi. But if you love me, if you feel like I do, then… I’ll be here when you get back tonight.”

Pressing my lips to his I hold his jaw, hot tears slide down his face, intermingling with my fingers, “I’ll see you tonight, Eren.”

“Tonight.” He promises, those eyes of his boiling my heart, melting it to a pathetic heap of destroyed muscle between my lungs.

Giving him one last deep kiss I ruffle his hair, “Call me if you need anything.”

“I just need you, Levi.”

“…I know.”

…

Planes suck, they are oversized airtight pipeline tubes hurling through the air at an impossibly high rate of speed controlled by ex pilots. Plus there’s always that nagging wondering on if the plane you’re on is going to be that plane that decides today is a good day to fall from the sky. Not that I would particularly mind if that were to occur, there isn’t much for me on the ground, aside from the boy in the messy bed of the apartment I pay rent on. 

Settling into the seat, I wrangle my suit jacket off, folding it into a neat square then placing it against the small of my back, exhaling in relief at the extra padding for the ride. Hange had been generous in purchasing the ticket, forking out the extra hundred dollars for first class seats, which always seemed well worth the extra ache in the wallet. The seats were better; the attendants acted as if they honestly were glad to be speaking with you, the drinks were alcoholic. 

When I was a toddler I vaguely remember flying with my parents. My mother held me in her lap; fingers laced across my stomach, firmly pressing me against her toned, soft body. Most of the time I’d curl against her and stare at my father because the window scared me. She would play with my hair, kiss the top of my head while my father wouldn’t so much as glance my way, instead he was reading or making last minute calls or email to manage his business. 

“I’m scared.” I remember squeaking to my mother, who looked down at me, giving me a reassuring smile as she stroked my cheek.

“Just hold tight to me.” She replied gently, “And I’ll hold tight to you, we’ll both be fine, right honey?”

Her blue eyes shifted to the man beside her who could not care less about the situation. He emitted a sort of grunt before flipping the page of his Time Magazine. For some reason I wanted his attention, reaching out I tugged on his suit jacket sleeve, “Papa. Papa we’ll be fine?”

His cruel eyes shifted to me, a frown tugged his already sagging lips as he flicked his son’s hand from his person, “Don’t be imprudent, Levi. Kuchel, get ahold of your son.”

Her hold on me tightened as a sharp exhale passed through her nasal cavity, “He’s your son too.” She hissed under her breath, shifting me in her hold, as if to protect me from his next words.

“He’s my bastard.” He grumbled, smoothing out a page of an African woman, bare breasted, grinning at the photographer, holding up a beautiful piece of pottery.

“We’re married.” She replied thickly, turning to gaze out the window, “He’s your son, we’re married.”

It was like she knew she had cancer and the STD when she somehow got that man to marry her. She knew that if I was legally his son when she died then he and his wealth would at least still protect me, which is what she wanted. Kuchel spent too many years as Olympia in the Parisian streets, in strange bedrooms to be filmed as well as dancing in dirty clubs; she didn’t want me forced into a similar lifestyle. How ironic everything turned out to be, in the end her son would still turn out to whore himself out for the sake of money. Just because she used her body to pay her rent did not make her any less intelligent, my mother was very smart, so much so she could’ve been overly successful on her own if she hadn’t taken the wrong paths. She knew exactly what she was doing when she wrote her will, when she locked my father into supporting me as well as giving a good chunk of his wealth to me when she passed. That money was locked away somewhere, his lawyers were able to steal that from me before I turned eighteen.

Reaching into the briefcase stowed below the seat before me, I pull out my copy of a novel I picked up in the bookstore in the airport, Albert Camus’ ‘The Stranger’ it was a slim, eloquent novel, the right size to get me through both flights. Cracking it open, ready for the damned metal beast to start its ascent a whiff of perfume I knew too well caught in my nose, Gucci Flora, the green bottle in the shape of a stop sign garnished with a cheap black ribbon. I had seen it on the hotel furniture of its owner many times before.

“Levi?” I hear her voice gasp, her heels shuffling on the shit carpet of the isle as she slides into the seat beside me, “This is a surprise!”

Folding the book shut I turn from its confusing black and white cover to meet her wide amber eyes, lily white skin and strawberry blond hair. “Petra.” I smile, watching her situate herself in the seat, “Visiting your father?”

She nods, tightening the seatbelt, exhaling as she tugs her hair down to fall around her jaw and neck, “Yeah, he had a kidney stone, needed someone to sign some paperwork, so I had to fly in for a day or two. I was too busy to see you, otherwise I would’ve let you know.”

“It’s alright. Your father is more important than my sexual needs.” 

A giggle as she angles her body towards mine, “Mmm…well since you’re headed for Manhattan, we can fix that at my place.” 

“I’d love to, but I’ve got a flight right back here after my meeting.”

“Your meeting?”

“For my art, a collection apparently was taken by some buyers in New York, Hange did a wonderful job at keeping me updated throughout that entire process. She just shoved a ticket in my face telling me when and where to be plus a lecture on how to behave.”

A fond smile toys her lips as she rests against my shoulder, laying against it, nestling herself against my form, “She does have a penchant for that doesn’t she?”

“She does.” I sigh, “One of the many reasons I love her, I guess.” 

Lacing our fingers together she gives our hands a firm squeeze, tight and reassuring, similar to how my mother used to embrace me on these contraptions. Petra always brought me this maternal warmth when we were together, not exactly motherly to where I had developed some sort of ‘Mommy Complex’ in using her to fill the void Kuchel left when she died, but that comforting that I was deprived of as a child as well as an adult. I let her hold my hand, there was nothing wrong with this, even though I knew deep, deep down in that tiny crevasse of my heart that had the moral which every human claims to have, sent out little alerts warning me of doing such an act. Even though it is innocent enough now that could turn into something opposite in a variable as simple as a change of scenery from airplane to hotel room. Or airline bathroom.

“I’ve missed you.” She whispers below my ear, “It’s only been a few weeks, and I really miss you, Levi.”

“I’ve missed you as well, Petra.” I murmur back, not a complete lie, outside of sex she made great company, “How are things at the agency?”

“Good. Very good…I’ve been busy, and between that and my father’s hospitalization, it hasn’t left much time to partake in anything much fun. If you catch my drift.” She shifts again in her seat, leaning on the divider between us, thankfully it was stationary. Her slender hands reach out to run up my thigh as the plane shoots into the sky, ticking down our time together, she knew this. 

Stiffening a bit at her touch, my eyes cut to her dangerously, firmly gripping her fingers, “What are you doing?”

“We should go to the bathroom.” She whispers, leaning over to kiss under my jaw, images of Eren in my bed flash behind my eyes. His messy brown hair, brilliant eyes in the golden morning light spilling on the pale grey duvet, white sheets. Watching him roll from his back to his stomach, inching to me, wrapping arms around me tightly, burying his face in the crook of my neck, murmuring on how thankful we has that I had let him stay a few nights.

“Absolutely not.” I snap under my breath, “That’s more risky than that one time in the hospital break room.”

Exhaling, her forehead rests on my shoulder, her hands moves against mine as she rubs a thumb over the rings hiding my ‘slave’ tattoo, “Are you mad about our last phone call?” she murmurs, “I’m sorry…ever since I knew you hired strippers for pleasure…then that thing with your student.”

Swallowing thickly I recall her harsh words over the receiver, she instantly assumed that I was fucking Eren when I began to paint him, sadly she wasn’t too far off from the truth. Not only was I fucking him, but also slowly falling for him, the second confession terrified me. In the past it didn’t matter who I took for a lover, the thought of racy bathroom sex on a plane would both disgust yet stimulate me to the point that whoever it was and I would be there in a matter of minutes. But Eren…the kid did things to me I wasn’t sure were good or bad just yet.

“It’s fine.” I assure her, turning to look at her shiny red hair, giving it a reassuring run through with my fingers, careful to not to tangle it in my rings, “You had every right to be mad at me for something like that. But…I’d rather you not get so possessive over stuff like that. I don’t see our relationship as exclusive as you do.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…you treat this almost as if we are dating. Which we aren’t. I don’t want to date. At least not now…I’ve got a lot of shit to work through first before I can fully commit myself to anyone just yet.”

She remains quiet for a long time before inhale gently, looking up at me with large eyes, “…why are you so afraid to open yourself to people, Levi?”

“Too many reasons to count.” I frown.

Sitting upright determination colors her expression as she holds tight to my hand, “I really have strong feelings for you.” She confesses, careful to have her voice down, glancing around as if afraid someone would hear, “Very strong feelings…I meant it back then…I meant it and I should’ve never taken it back. I’m sorry. I do love you, Levi. I love you so much, I’m scared to say anything like that to you, I’m scared of you running away from me, of running from emotions like that.”

“Petra…”

“Stop.” she snaps, “Levi, I’m serious. I love you…I want to one day be married to you. Please…let’s be exclusive, I’m ready to be committed to you, as a girlfriend…” her other hand wraps around the nape of my neck, “Perhaps one day…as a wife…”

Every fiber of my being wanted to throw her off, but that would do catastrophic damage to us. Closing my eyes, I inhale deeply through my nose, tenderly peeling her hold from me, overlapping her hands on the divider between us. “Listen…I’m not ready for that. I told you. I’m not ready for commitment like that right now.”

Her eyes flicker for a long moment, staring down at her hands on the hospital grey plastic on the divider. Wetting her lips she exhales, she wanted to say her mouthful’s worth about the situation but knew better than to try to pry me open when I didn’t want to be opened. Month ago she had tried, it didn’t go well. We may have a short-lived relationship and friendship, but we knew one another well enough it was as if we had been around one another since a young age. 

“Alright.” She fakes a smile, patting my upper arm, giving it a forlorn squeeze, “Alright, Levi. I understand.”

Giving her a small smile I wanted to kiss her forehead, but our seating arrangements would make that seem more awkward than personable. I give the hand on my arm a warm squeeze, “Thank you, Petra.”

…

We said our goodbyes in the cab. The damned woman was impulsive, grabbing my face, giving me a deep kiss, as if silently trying to convince me to stay with her, then laughing it off waving her hand at me, hiding her face with the other. “Old habit, I suppose!” she shrugs, waving goodbye before I exited the cab.

Hange was waiting for me in front of the lobby, a brow raised with a leather organizer propped against her acutely cocked hip, “Well. That was one hell of a goodbye.” She smirks, opening the door for me, slipping behind me then falling into my step, “I thought you and The Teal Eyed Boy were an item, not you and everyone’s favorite ginger.” 

Shrugging, I reach into my pocket, producing the e-cig, giving it a few clicked before withdrawing what I needed. Breathing out, the vapor dances with itself around my lips before evaporating. “Eren’s in my loft right now. His mother passed, he’s a wreck right now. We fuck and I like it. I like him. Petra…we were fuck buddies as well as friends. She understands me very well, like an intimate friend.”

“Like me.” Hange suggests, giving my shoulder a little nudge, “No one knows you better than me, Ravioli Man.” 

“Stop-“

“-calling you that?” a cackle, “Fat chance!”

Claiming another deep mouthful of manufactured smoke I meet Hange’s eyes as we step into the elevator, watching her press the right button, resting against the railing with one hand, “So. How the hell did you get your hands on Eren’s portraits?”

She shrugs as she shoves her square frames up her face, “You left them strung out all over your apartment, they looked good, I photographed them and sent them around. They’re being bid over like hot cakes. We’re going to a meeting with the six highest bidders right now. So please, no poop jokes at the table.” 

“Don’t tempt me.” I smirk, pocketing the cig, “Why tell me now? You could’ve given me a heads up, even the modeling agency Eren’s signed to recognized him from the collection. How many people know about this?”

A long exhale rumbles from the back of her throat, as she rolls her head side to side, the numbers and proper verbal execution tumbling around between her ears, “A lot.” She smiles, “A. Lot. Eren’s paintings are spreading like fire, Levi. I couldn’t believe it. I wanted to surprise you since your birthday is coming up.”

“Oh shove it up your ass, Shit Face. You don’t’ give two fucks about birthday surprises unless they’re the awful kind you can profit from bad photos to post online.” I snap, jabbing a finger at her, “What aren’t you telling me?”

Giving me a joyous smirk she pats my face, “Nothing, I’m telling you nothing. But trust me, it’s for the best; I don’t want you sticking your foot anywhere it shouldn’t. This is a dangerous, delicate game that I know how to play better that I know how to breathe. Let me handle it. I’ll keep you better updated with what you need to know.”

“Because you’ve been so good at keeping me updated.” I roll my eyes to the ceiling as she stops before two large oak doors with frosted windows, “Hange, you never leave me this in the dark. What’s up?”

She exhales as a small smile plays her lips, giving me a forlorn, sympathetic expression in her deep brown eyes, “I just don’t want to get you excited only to have things crash down like before.”

“I can handle rejection. I’m not five.”

“Yes but…I know how much it means to you and.” 

“Cut the crap.” I hold up my hand, “Seriously. Don’t. How about this, you can keep your secrets, keep playing your corporate bullshit and just let me know if the collection sells or not. How about that?”

Extending her free hand to me, we grasp them together in hearty agreement, “Deal.” She nods, before breaking off the embrace to push open one of the doors beside us, holding it open long enough for me to enter then shutting it behind.

The room was huge, long and ominous, like in Mad Men or some shit, complete with a large wooden meeting table coupled with plush office chairs that probably cost more than my rent with men in suits that cost more than the entire apartment building. All of them were carbon copies of one another, with slightly varying haircuts and suit colors. Yet they all looked like they came out of a perfect set of dolls for some twisted child that wanted to play office. Setups like this only reminded me of the man, by biology, I call father. He thrives and lurks in these habitats, I’m pretty sure he was conceived and born on a meeting table much like this one. A man, with thinning hair expertly combed to give off the impression he still owned a full head of hair stands, walking to us, embracing both our hands with his, “You must be Mr. Rivialle.” He smiles, gesturing to the other empty chair at one of the two heads of the table, “Please, sit, sit. Can we get you anything to drink during the meeting?”

“Water’s fine.” I reply, making a beeline for the seat, more than ready for this to be over with, “Let’s get started immediately, I have a plane to catch.”

I could hear Hange flash the man an apologetic smile as I took a seat, now noticing the collection mounted on the wall, all portraits of Eren, the sight of him bringing me a sense of comfort, I wish he wanted to come with me, yet he had every right to be nestled in my bed right now. Crossing my legs under the table I recline into the office chair, scanning the small audience of men, a few women, all with proper posture, eagerly clinging to the words spilling from Hange’s mouth as she recaps previous meetings. Which while the concerned my collection, they did not concern me. All I wanted was my check and to leave as well as tickets to see my own gallery. That’s it. The man at the other head of the table clears his throat, folding his hands as he leans closer; giving me a warm half smile as he gains my attention through direct eye contact.

“Mr. Rivialle.” He begins, waving a hand to the many portraits of Eren on the wall, “Your collection is very impressive, by far the best rendition of the human for we have seen in a long time. It almost looks like very well done photography, yet when the viewer gets closer, the surprise is that this is painted.”

“Thank you.”

“I am the head of the Metropolitan Museum of Art here in New York City, and if it’s not too forward seeing as we haven’t’ discussed any prices in full, it would be an honor to have your work displayed in an exhibition at our establishment.” He smiles, “Your work is truly astounding, it’s as if the old masters are alive in you, putting their modern rendition in this boy’s pieces. It’s remarkable, incredibly remarkable.” He gifts me another smile, “Who was your model may I ask?”

“A student of mine.” I reply, cracking my knuckles boredly, when in fact I was anything but bored. It was an honor to have The Met want Eren’s collection, hell this guy really seemed like he wanted it, I could maybe make him pay through his well-plucked nose to get it. “His name is Eren Jaeger, he goes to school in Chicago where I work. Apparently this collection has been going around? He signed on as a model a few days ago and one of the reasons he even got the job was because he was the ‘Teal Eyed Boy.’”

The man gives me an apologetic smile, “My humblest apologies Mr. Rivialle, we were trying to pinpoint who the model was, so we sent out an inquiry to some large agencies to see if you went through them to obtain your model.” 

I shrug, “Nope. The brat needed to borrow some paint for class, the light looked good, I painted his ass. Good to know that it turned out well, well enough to begin to get around.” 

“It’s not just that!” another man, one who was completely bald pipes in, “The collection is on Ms. Zoe’s site, it’s gone viral. You can see it constantly being reproduced on sites like Tumblr, Instagram, Pinterest, all of the major sites kids these days seem to use. The most popular one is the center portrait.” He points at the first painting I did of Eren, the light catching his features perfectly, his large eyes examining the viewer’s soul, dark hair slightly askew, caramel skin glowing with the pale blue background of my living room walls, “Sites are illegally selling shirts, phone cases, tablet cases and skins, it’s quickly becoming a huge deal.”

This was news. My Eren was being exploited and consumed by the masses while I’m just now hearing about it? Perhaps I could get online more often, or perhaps I was too old to really care which social media sites Eren’s face was being reproduced, the numbers and comments won’t pay my bills. But these men, these men can. As I saw the painful truth beginning to unfold itself out before me, I had a few options, ones that could severely make or break this entire collection. However, the audience was apparently eating it up, which I had no idea I even had an audience. One of the men towards the middle of the large table was meticulously connecting wires into his laptop, a few taps on a tiny remote and bam, his laptop screen was mirrored on a screen displaying the search results for ‘teal eyed boy’ on Google.

Sure enough, there were thousands upon thousands of results for those three plain words. Suggested images were lined at the top, all of Eren’s portraits, some mine, others recreated works, even boys and girls trying to conform themselves to look like Eren. 

“This is insane…” I whisper, suddenly aware I was standing, the men’s brimming eyes shift to me, the only thought of money glistening in each pair, “How long has this been going on for?”

Hange flashes me a knowing smirk from her seat, “Three weeks, I’ve been putting each painting out every four days, the communities have been eating them up.”

The first man nods, returning her prideful smile, “Now that you’re caught up to speed on your talents, Mr. Rivialle, I’d like to discuss money, revenues, options to take this collection.”

Everything began to roar around me, spinning and tumbling into this strange rush of emotions. It felt as if it was going around me too quickly, like I barely had time to respond to these questions, inquires, words left my lips as easily as breathing or maintain my heartbeat but I knew nothing of what I was saying. All I knew was that I had to win, I had to make this work, I had to sell Eren and I the best possible way. No way would I become what my mother fought so hard to prevent me from becoming. Yes, I needed to dance on that cold, silver stick in Smith’s club, but only for awhile, only until these deals floating around the room were closed, sealed and nothing more than accomplishments accompanied by the warmth of stone hard cash.

…

“Damn, Levi!” Hange laughs, slapping my shoulder as we leave the building, late afternoon sunlight spilling a golden haze around the large city, “I never knew you had a business side to you!”

Fighting a smile I slip my hands into my pocket, wanting to take out my phone to call Eren, to share this with him, but stopped myself. He was my lover, my muse, not my boyfriend. I’d tell him when I got home, besides, he hadn’t texted me all day aside from how happy he was that I landed in New York safe and sound. Otherwise I’m sure that kid was burrowed in bedding wearing nothing but Ralph Lauren boxers, eating the strawberry ice cream in the freezer while watching something called ‘Parks and Recreation’ on my Netflix account. It was best I leave him be.

“Neither did I.” I admit, letting the smile win, glancing up at her, “How good does things look, Hanjo?”

She shrugs, face still flushed from excitement, “So far, very good, assuming everything goes through smoothly and I do my job properly.”

Linking arms like we do when we’ve both had too much to drink, we start heading for nowhere, meandering into the currents of people around us, not caring about their busy lives. We were on the rise, we just got out of a meeting that dealt with deals in the millions, numbers I didn’t know I’d ever hear directed to me since the lawyer was explaining what my father was taking away from me when I was eight, crying and still trying to process Kuchel’s passing. 

“You’d better do it perfectly.” I teasingly threaten, “Or I’ll break your glasses, again.” 

A loud laugh rips from her throat as she shakes her head, “You’re cute, Ravioli, too cute for you to know. How about I buy you a few rounds? On me! Then you can get on your flight and crawl back into your Teal Eyed Boy’s arms?”

Expelling a slightly annoyed growl I playfully shove up into her form, “You’re full of shit. I’m going to order the most expensive scotch the fucking bar has!”

“I dare you!” 

Extending a hand forward a rare laugh slips from between my lips, “To the Upper East Side! I want only the finest shit tonight, Zoe!”

…

There were too many sounds, noises on the plane. They were mumbled in an audible garbage that I wanted to do nothing more with than set it the fuck on fire. Children whined, babies cried, men shuffled their stupid books and magazines while women fastidiously arranged themselves in their seats like exotic, expensive birds of prey. The plane had landed, I knew that much, the flight seemed shorter this time, probably because I actually took up an offer to escape to the bathroom this time.

Flight attendant, tall, blond, pretty large brownish-gold eyes. She touched my thigh by accident, I spilt my free juice, somehow we were in the back, my dick and brain switched places and before either of us really figured out what the hell we were doing or wanting to do, I had her pinned up against the corner, eagerly ravaging her mouth with mine. She gripped my shirt to drag me into the tiny cramped stall of a bathroom, snapped the lock in place before unzipping her skirt, leaving us to continue.

Giving me a warm smile, she cups my face, leaning close, “Mr. Ackerman, we’ve landed. Do you need help getting your things?”

“Little bit…” I mumble, stomach knotting along with waves of nausea battling between my ribs as I dispute if I wanted to ask her for a puke bag instead of my overnight one above my head somewhere.

Smiling she shakes her head, unbuckling me then placing the small suitcase beside me in the isle. Standing up, I see the men, women and children I thought I heard were now gone, I was the only one on this stupid plane. Following close behind, the attendant walks me out to the terminal; giving me a warm squeeze on my upper arm, “Have a good night, Mr. Ackerman!”

Flicking my hand in some sort of wave, I start my onward stumbling to try to get to a cab, then to my loft. I wanted to sleep so fucking bad. To just get to my place, strip down to my pants and fall into my bed to be warmed by Eren’s fucking high body temperature. I’d give back every drop of alcohol, every pill I popped, and that line I took in the cab just to have him hold me this moment. But it was too late; my body was in that strange parallel dimension to where I felt like shit yet I also felt fucking amazing. Nothing processed in my mind, nothing really made sense, but it was all happening while being barely processed. There were too many thoughts popping around in my head, most I know I’ll never remember the second I conceive them except that want to be with Eren, only Eren. I could see his eyes in my head, his smile, his body, God his body. I wanted that to the point that it could hurt.

Suddenly I find myself face first in something that kind of felt like a brick wall, but it had a tenderness that could only belong to human or animal. Forcing my head to tilt up I see the wobbling structure of Erwin Smith’s face, chiseled face, perfect Steve Roger’s hair and eyebrows that one could probably hide snacks in. Cheetos sounds really good right now. Maybe he’s got Cheetos in his eyebrows.

“Excuse me?” he laughs, strong hands cupping my shoulders as he guides me from the crowd, forcing me down on a bench, stooped over me like a concerned parent, holding one side of my face as he tilts it around, “Levi…are you alright?”

“Cheetos…”

“Cheetos?”

“Do you have any?”

“No.”

“Not even in your eyebrows?” 

He holds the finger that was aimed to press into his face, lowering it down to place back into my lap, “Are you drunk?” he asks in a hushed tone.

Leaning closer, I shield my lips from the passerby’s, who were undoubtedly staring at us. Two grown men dangerously close to one another, we probably looked like lovers or drug dealers. Or drug dealers in love.

“I’m super high.” I whisper, the airport was starting to sway, “And I’m not sure on what…”

Emitting a low exhale he rubs the space between his eyes as his tongue darts out to wet his lips before he gives me the most incredulous look I’m sure that perfect face has ever made. “You’re high and drunk in an airport?” he demands, voice still low, but to me it kinda sounded loud. Like a loud snake.

“Yes.”

“Jesus Christ, Levi.”

“My name isn’t Jesus Christ…” I correct him, patting his shoulder, he was warm, warm like Eren, but he wasn’t Eren.

“Clearly.” He mutters, shifting in his position, strong arms suddenly around me, lifting me into his hold, “Try not to make a scene, I’m going to take you to your apartment. You live downtown on the West side, right?”

“I live in Westeros.” 

Another noise from the back of his throat of amusement as the airplane port starts to move in a slow, blurred rush. Everything was meshed together, the sounds, the feelings, all of it. I’m not sure when he exited the place with me coddled to his chest like a broken child, but it wasn’t too long before I heard another voice join in Erwin’s, who was answering questions, laughing about mimosas and honeymoons. Or maybe he meant honeybees. Not sure what Erwin would be doing with honeybees, but more power to him I guess. Maybe there’s honeybees in his eyebrows, they nest in there, raise families, start empires, all in the confines of this man’s brows.

Something was moving, the car I believe, and I was still against Erwin’s brick body, his arms holding me as if to protect me from this contraption. I could feel his leveled breathing lightly ruffling the hair atop my head, the slight break as his lips parted for his tongue to dart out again. He was nervous for some strange reason, I knew he liked what he saw when I danced for him to get that job, but I doubt he liked anything beyond that, especially with me like this. A thumb strokes my cheek, causing me to carefully meet his eyes, they were such a cool blue they were ice framed by a gentle beige glow of his skin and angelic golden hair. He was beautiful, like how I would picture Adonis or a Roman ruler. I could see him strutting around Rome, in robes, books and scrolls, running his whore club. Those places have existed since man figured out how to put up four walls as well as house women inside.

“How are you feeling?” he inquires in a low tone.

I shrug, closing my eyes, the image of Roman Erwin behind my eyes. Maybe his hair would be longer; I doubt the undercut would exist. “I’m…good.”

He lets out a soft chuckle; his fingers were now running through my hair, “Good…good. Do you have your keys on you? We’re here.”

“Here where?” I ask, a hand moving to my pocket, his hand nudges it out of the way to reach inside, sending an electric warmth through my body as I could feel his able fingers brush against my skin through the pocket liner.

“Your apartment.” He replies, switching to speak with the driver, the crumbling of money shifts from the backseat to the front before the click of the door opening sounds and he gets out.

Head recovering, I place a hand to my forehead, closing my eyes tightly. God I felt awful, I just wanted Eren in my arms, or rather me in his. Yes, he was hurting, probably crying himself to sleep or watching Mad Max for the umpteenth time, but I didn’t care. I’d listen to Mel Gibson’s bad lines be delivered for eternity so long as they reached my ears from the comfort of that boy’s arms. Erwin’s hands keep me upright as he bends himself a bit more to get a better assessment of me, “Do you know your apartment number?”

Raising a hand I nod, swallowing thickly, “Yeah…yeah…yeah. Whatever…I’m on is beginning to go off…a bit. The edge is going off.”

He says nothing as he waits patiently for me standing there with me on the cold Chicago sidewalk with my keys in his hand and me between his hands. “I can carry you.” He offers.

A rude laughs rips from my throat as I shake my head, “No.”

“Levi, you keep swaying and muttering, I think that’s the safest way to get you home right now.”

“No.”

“I can take you home with me.” He suggests, “I can call up another cab, put you up in the spare bedroom it’s no trouble at all.”

“I’m already here.” I exhale, prying my eyes open to meet his, the man was way too close for comfort. Eren flashes in my head, what would Eren think of this if he were to come outside for a moment? “I’m here. I’ll stay here.”

“Very well.” He nods, wrapping an arm around my waist, gingerly leading me into the building, and listening attentively to my slurred directions to get to my loft. Unluckily for me it was in the back corner of the small complex since it was one of the cheapest efficiencies in there. Soon, once I sell Eren’s paintings I’ll buy a big house, a huge house, one for the both of us, I’ll be rich enough to have a butler do this for me, not some whore owner.

Finally, we were in front of the door in the shit lighting of the hallway, it seemed darker than usual but that didn’t particularly matter anyways. Eren was behind that door; Eren would be there to take care of me in this wretched state. He would be there, least this side of me didn’t scare him off. Erwin’s thumbs rub on the rounded edges of my shoulders as he exhales, granting me a affectionate smile. Parting his lips an inhale sounds as he prepares himself to speak, but shuts himself up before pressing his lips into a tight line. His ice eyes flicker as he surveys me, deducts me, this strange man who was his employee, who was high and drunk, who he had to rescue from an airport. A hand leaves a shoulder, curling carefully underneath my chin, forcing my face up as well as inching our lips closer together.

“Forgive me.” He whispers, his voice seeming off kilter as he closes the gap, flooding warmth washing over me as his hand that once held my shoulder wraps around me completely, pressing our bodies together.

It was like being swallowed by an entire person, being drowned in a person’s existence, nothing was around me but Erwin. His smell, his cave-like body folded around mine, how his fingers fanned over me then gripped my form tighter while a heated moan passes his lips, the slight stubble of his face lightly tickles my face. He tasted how fine alcohol appears, his lips were luxurious, he was that fine coat you would slip on in Saks, smirk at yourself in such a fine material in the nearest mirror, debating if you wanted to sell your house for something so reassuring. Those lips against mine were lightly layered in the saliva from when he was wetting his lips, probably out of nerves because he was debating on what was taking advantage of me and what wasn’t. 

Yet, I found myself giving into that Saks coat, seriously debating on selling my home for it. It was expensive, it was the American dream and it was dragging me deeper and deeper into a golden haze laced with rich promise. A deep moan rumbles in the back of his throat, his aftershave and colnge flare in my nose, acting like a smelling salt may, suddenly snapping eyes wide open to see his closed ones, his blissful expression. 

“Levi…” he breathes, effortlessly pushing me into the door, “Let me in…for tonight. Let me beside you to watch you. Until you’re safe…”

“Erwin…” I swallow thickly, still struggling to stay upright, placing a hand on his chest, “This…” 

“What?” another voice whispers, broken and ragged, “The hell are you doing?”

The blond stiffens around me, his posture straightening as he lets out a sighed chuckle, “Ah…sorry. I think we might have the wrong apartment.”

I wanted to die. More than anything I wanted to die. The devastation coupled with confusion on Eren’s face was too much for me, especially in this weakened state. If this lasted much longer I might actually cry, which was something I forbade myself from ever doing.

“Levi Rivialle.” Eren recites thickly, his face growing red with mirroring suppressed meotions, “Are you looking for Levi’s apartment?”

“I am…” Erwin smiles, “Are you his roommate?”

Eren’s eyes shift to me, a winter glossing over them stabs a horrible pain inside me, “I…yes. Yes I am. Thanks for bringing him home.”

Stepping closer, I see he was wearing one of my shirts, there was a strange light in the apartment behind him as the door opens wider, since when were the walls white? His hands wrap around my waist, prying me from Erwin’s touch, leading me into the loft, forcing me into the doorframe. Without warning he whirls around, a loud crack ripping through the air as a chocked gasp escapes Erwin’s mouth, his hands flying up to his nose, blood showing between his fingers. His eyes widen as he meets Eren’s, the kid was breathing heavily, his body was barely hunched over as if he were ready to fight Erwin then and there.

“Goodnight.” He snaps angrily, turning back around, tears falling as he roughly grips my shoulder, shoving me into the loft, slamming the door behind him, immediately falling against it, a deep sob ripping from him. His fingers slip into his hair, chest heaving as he struggles to stay against the wood as I tremble, barely getting onto the floor as he lashes out, punching the wall, “Damn you, Levi!” he shouts, “Damn you, fuck you, screw you Levi!” each word a bullet in my heart, I had no idea words could hurt like this, “Fuck you Levi…fuck you…fuck you…”

Shaking hands shield my face, the blood in my body was frozen stiff as his whimpers fill the air. A deep inhale through his nose sounds as he expels a long sigh, as if the steam from his rage was leaving his entire being. “…you didn’t go to a business meeting, did you?” he asks, voice shaking.

“I did.” I answer softly, leaning wholly against a leg on the kitchen table, “I…I also am high…and sobering up.”

His eyes cut to me before his hand wipes away a few tears, shaking his head as he kneels before me, holding my face firmly, staring deepy into my eyes, “Did you fuck him?”

“What?!”

“Did. You. Fuck him.” He repeats, “That man. Did you fuck him?”

“No. Eren, I-”

“Do you love him?”

“Excuse you?”

“Do you love him?” he demands, voice breaking, my heart snaps.

Tangling my hands in the hair at the back of his head I crush our lips together, leaping into that embrace I was craving the moment I left this place this morning. He was here, we were together, and that was all that could possibly matter right now. For some reason, I don’t know why, he returns these kisses, each one deeper than the next. I do not deserve to have his hands on me, but they capture me in his embrace as he lifts me into his arms, wobbling as he stands, stumbling as he tumbles into the couch, tangling us in one another. 

Breathing heavily I stare at him long and hard, soaking in the sight of him like this, he looked so rugged, his facial hair was peering through on his jaw and cheeks. His hair was messy, his eyes were bloodshot, he was in my shirt he was hot, he was the man I loved. Gently, I stroke a few fingers down his cheek, seeing that they were like the chilled leaves outside, “I’m sorry that I love you.”

A sad smile breaks his face as he shakes his head, hugging me tightly to his chest, face buried in my hair, his body relaxing as he strokes the tiny hairs of the undercut, “…I’ll never be sorry.”

A relief floods me, cleansing me of that extravagance that Erwin’s touch left on me, replaced by what this man did to me. Our breathing begins to match as we relax in one another’s arms, reassured by the upset in simply being around one another. We didn’t need words to explain ourselves to one another, we just knew how the other worked and that was enough. He was what I needed; he made me want to be clean so this would never happen again. He deserves someone better than me, so much better than me. What Eren Jaeger needs is a king, a king who can give him love that he is worthy of, who can make him smile, not punch holes in wall and curse. But I’m a selfish knight, fighting to keep this prince at my side for as long as possible without looking too much of a fool.

“Love is more than just a game for two  
Two in love can make it  
Take my heart and please don't break it  
Love was made for me and you…”

The song was low, the music tricking from an old stereo system I mainly used for aesthetic purposes in the bookshelf, but now it was playing, off a CD. Shifting underneath Eren’s weight I look at it, the dully white glow of the numbers ticking off the duration of the song, the shelf was draped in a white gossamer curtain, there was so many white lights strung around the loft from the low rafters, the walls, everything seemed like a strange wonderland.

“Is this…”

“Nat King Cole?” he mumbles from my hair, “Yeah…I made a mix CD for us to have dinner to…I’m not a cook like you…but I made tilapia and vegetables.”

“Tilapia and vegetables…”

“Yeah…to have together when you returned.” He murmurs, moving so that I was draped on his chest, he watches me as his fingers continue to play with hair, “I even have wine, the good kind that you have hidden in the top shelves…I bought nice cigars for you, even though I hate that you smoke but I know it relaxes you, I thought you’d be stressed and need it.” He exhales, adjusting himself to a better position, running a hand under my shirt, resting it on the naked skin of the small of my back, “We were to eat together, I’d listen to how your trip went. I’d then take out the cake I nearly burnt down your loft to make…we’d eat that…then dance together to the music I found out you like.”

“You found out I like?”

He smiles, eyes lighting up like they do when they are truly happy, thank god he was happy, “I found your jazz collection hidden under the bed.” He leans closer, whispering huskily, “Along with your dirty toys.” Damn, he knew how to play me like a fucking violin, “I made a mix of the songs I thought fit us best…whatever we are. We’d dance to a song or two, depending on how long it took for us to probably start having sex on the floor. Exhausted, we’d lie there; staring at the lights and drapes I spent way too much time to put up. But…it was going to be all worth it. Because then I could rightfully thank you for being so kind to me, Levi.” 

“Don’t thank me for being kind.” I mutter, “I’m not kind.”

I could hear him close his eyes as he kisses my forehead, “You’re kind, Lev, so kind. You’re difficult, you’re very hard to love, but somehow…it’s easy. I see you, I really see you.” He grips my jaw, making our eyes connect, his entity pierces me as he swallows thickly, “I can handle the drinking, the smoking, maybe even the drugs. But I won’t have you lie to me or lie with anyone else.”

“Fair enough.” I murmur, wanting to kiss him so badly, but even in this state, I knew that was a bad idea.

“Some day, when I'm awfully low  
When the world is cold  
I will feel a glow just thinking of you  
And the way you look tonight…”

Nodding, he rewards me, granting me the pleasure of his taste on mine, sending chills up my spin as he exhales against my lips, “I know you don’t want to move forward with anything between us…but please. Don’t…don’t let anyone hold you, or kiss you like I do. I don’t want anyone to touch or kiss me like that man was doing to you…I want only you Levi, no one else. Am I the only one you want?”

Determined, I nearly glare at him as my fingers curl into his sides, a sad swallowing moistening my throat, “Only you, Eren.”

“Some day, when I'm awfully low  
When the world is cold  
I will feel a glow just thinking of you  
And the way you look tonight…”

Relief grips his expression as he retired back to the cushion of the couch, kissing the crown of my head over and over, a few droplets wetting my hair, but I didn’t care. He was happy, I was happy; we were messy but happy, so long as this kid could smile because of me, which was good enough for me. But for that to stay stable, I had to get rid of the drugs, for good, maybe even the cigarettes. I could wane off to e-cigs, hell if he asked me to shred up every pack, to break every electronic one I own, I would do it. If he wanted me to flush all alcohol in this apartment down the toilet just so I could kiss him once, I would. There’s nothing this man couldn’t ask of me that I wouldn’t do, thank god he doesn’t fully know it yet.

“Yes, you're lovely with your smile so warm  
And your cheeks so soft  
There is nothing for me but to love you  
And the way you look tonight

With each word your tenderness grows  
Tearing my fear apart  
And that laugh that wrinkles your nose  
It touches my foolish heart…”


	15. FIFTEEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Levi has his first night at the strip club, the night ending with an unexpected visitor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long since an update! I've been busy with school, YouTube stuff and working on my own novels! But I hope stripper Levi makes up for it <3

Beep…beep…beep…

The small noise came from someplace in the room, probably in a strange little corner, wadded in some clothes, or on a shelf. It didn’t matter, it was going off, it would continue to go off until whoever kept calling it figured out that the line was not available at the moment. There was no reason to wonder where the irritating alarm came from, that much was already evident. It belonged to the boy on my living room floor, curled into my chest, arms tangled around my body, keeping me firmly pressed to his torso, even in a deep sleep. Moments like this made everything worth it, the strangeness that is our…whatever this is. It has no label and I love that more than I could even think to describe.

Long ago the CD had stopped, jazz music had abruptly fallen asleep to the dull drum of the heater hidden somewhere in this loft. He had fallen asleep fairly quickly last night, kissing me until my lips were sore, they were so incredibly sore with this aching pain, a pain I would trade nothing for, because it was proof that we were something. Shifting under his weight I yawn, stretching my arms over my head, the angelic glow of Eren’s mess of a surprise from last night still strung up all over the apartment, scents of his adventures in the kitchen evident, reminding me that I was starving.

Beep…beep…beep…

Turning to stare at him, he looked like some sort of mythical being, airbrushed skin a warm caramel reflecting off the Christmas lights filtered through the opaque curtains. Thick brows, dark brown hair, perfectly formed lips with a delicate cupid’s bow, a touch of a butt chin dimple, strong nose and stronger jawline. His neck was muscular; his body was even more so, he was like a powerful animal, a beautiful powerful animal, vulnerable and asleep on my floor. Cupping his face I press my lips to his forehead, savoring the feel of his hot blood against the coolness of my own, leading a gentle trail down the contours of his face, then to the crook of his neck, resting my mouth there, gently working to leave a few marks on him. 

This kid was mine. He was slowly saving me from the darkness that shadowed me when my mother’s flame went out, when I turned to so many poisons, he was purging me of all the sin I loved, causing that demon in me to scream in pain, agonizing on if this brat was worth it. 

He moves, a muted, mewled exhales hisses between his teeth, lips relaxing to expose his straight, white teeth. His hand shifted to rest on the slight curve of my hip, fingers lazily curled into the waistband of my trousers. Damn kid wasn’t even awake yet somehow managed to toil my blood. Deepening the kiss I slip atop him, draped on his chest, arms wrapped around his broad torso as I work to wake him up. A hand trails down his chest, gripping the shirt he stole from me, lifting it up to expose his toned torso, overly toned for someone his age, but I would never complain when my fingers were where they belonged on it. He was hot to the eyes as well to the touch, probably from all of that energy that licked in his eyes, just looking at him you could see a fire raging inside this man. 

Teeth graze his skin, tongue swirls in strange patterns, tasting his spice as I rest a few fingers on his nipple, circling it, tenderly pinching at it. He emits another moan, turning his head away from me, exposing more of his neck. Big mistake. Shifting to a spot I knew drove him insane, my lips latch right below his ear lobe, delivering dark kisses to the skin, breathing hotly, labored as I kiss up the shell of his ear.

“Eren…” I moan breathlessly, “Eren…” 

Shifting again he stirs, a strange mumbling spilling from his mouth as he directs his half-awake eyes to me, already hazing with lust, “…Levi.”

Licking the bend of his jaw I slip a hand under his pant line, grasping his growing member, “Good morning.” 

“What are you…?”

“Ssshh.”

He fell quiet, a strange little exhale left his lips as I press myself closer to his back, keeping a hand firmly wrapped around his torso, pinching a nipple as the other hand works between his legs. I touched him carefully, tenderly, as if he were made of glass or rice paper, a delicate boy who needs to be shown what I can never hope to be able to express in words. Words are things I know nothing about, they are lost to me, they always have been, I don’t know the right ones to say or the correct ones to listen to. But actions, other means of communication, those work out better than speaking.

His body trembles against mine as he tenses then relaxes against me, my lips working to continue to kiss all over the back of his neck and behind his ears, breathing hotly against the sensitive areas. He squirms more, lower half rolling up into the fingers holding his sex as I feel it become harder, he was close, I could literally feel it, I could see it on his face, hear it in his moans.

“Levi…” he groans, moving his head back to capture my lips hungrily, “Levi…” he nearly whimpers.

“Come.” I hiss, “Come, Eren.” 

“I...”

Kissing him deeper I nip at his lower lip, teasing it between my teeth, maintaining a hooded eye contact as I squeeze an area I know to draw that sudden, ragged gasp from him, his beautiful eyes wide as he stares back at me. They were clouding as his breathing scales then dips down only to climb higher than before. A deep moan rumbles in his chest as his hips buck uncontrollably into my hand, swiveling desperately as my hand continues to work, my eyes fall closed as I deepen the kiss best I can from his slack lips. Another heated sound passes from his mouth to mine as the hot, sticky indication of his climax soils my hand as well as parts of his own body. 

Breathing still labored, he rolls to his back, reaching up to run a hand through his hair, wetting his lips, eyes closed as he speaks between gasps, “What was that for?”

Smirking, an arm wraps around his torso, draping across his abdomen, which was covered in a thin film of sweat. Moving to curl my from into the curves of his I deliver a gentle kiss to his chest, rubbing a protruding muscle on his six pack, “…just saying good morning.”

A short laugh, “You hate morning sex.” He turns his head down, I lifted mine up, our eyes instantly lock on the others, “That was about last night wasn’t it?”

He knew it was, asking did neither of us any good except bring up an uncomfortable topic too early in the morning. Sitting upright I sigh, running the clean hand through my hair, a shower was much needed on my behalf, scents of the airplane, alcohol, drugs and unfortunately Erwin’s cologne mixed in with Eren’s clung to me. “Do you want me to cook you something or do you want to go out for breakfast?” I ask as I stand, casually wiping Eren’s semen off on my shirt, it was destined for the laundry basket anyways.

“Levi.” He frowns, still on the floor, an arm crooked underneath his head the other absentmindedly plays with the neckline of his shirt, “Can we please talk about it?”

“Why?” I snap, not meaning to, I wanted to take my tone back after seeing his eyes recoil from me, “I…I said I love you. I promised to be exclusive with you. What more do you want, Eren?” 

His lower lip wobbled a bit as he inhales deeply through his lips, closing his eyes tightly as he grunts while forcing himself upright, rubbing his forehead, “I want you to not be an ass for five minutes.” He exhales, “I want to know who that man was from last night, why he thought he could hold you like that…” 

“We were both drunk.” I lied, slipping hands into the pockets of my trousers, “Plus I was high on who knows what. He’s a fellow bartender at the club I work at, he’s gay, has a little crush, we split a cab, he thought he could get friendly.” Stepping towards him the hands leave their hiding place as they cup his face after I kneel before him, “Listen to me , I won’t say this again. I meant it when I was coming down from my mess last night, and I mean it sober.” God his eyes were so large, too deep, it felt like I was staring into the ocean, being consumed by it, “I love you.” I whisper, surprised at how tenderly the words left my lips, “I love you, Eren Jaeger. I hate that I do because you deserve someone so much better than me.”

“Stop talking like that.” He frowns, winding his arms around my shoulders, “You don’t see what I see, you don’t see you, Levi. I wish you could see the man I love, he’s handsome, kind…” he smiles, kissing me gingerly, “He’s everything I could ever want, and he’s not mine.”

I frown, “What? I am yours, Eren.”

“No.” he smiles sadly, dropping his arms, pulling away to stand, “We’re just friend with benefits. Friends who happen to be in love with each other. I want to call you my boyfriend, Levi. Especially after seeing that man against you, kissing you. If we labeled this…”

The kid had a point, if we did label this as boyfriends, then that would force Petra into boundaries she would be livid in, anyone who could possibly hit on Eren at a shoot would be shot down by that word-boyfriend. However, my blood ran cold at the thought of being seen as another man’s man, even if that man was Eren. I had this reputation as a woman’s man, not a man’s, even though I degraded myself to stripping on a pole. Eren was the one man that I could ever be attracted to, boyfriends made it sound as if it were something it’s not.

“I get it.” I exhale, standing to meet his eyes, “But labeling is for children. I promised you an exclusive relationship. I like you and respect you enough to do that, don’t push it.” 

“Don’t threaten me like that!” he suddenly shouts, fists curled at his side, “You don’t hold all the power here, Levi! What would you do if I just walked out right now?”

“I’d go after you.” I blurt, gripping his wrist as if he were on his way to the door, “…I’m sorry. I’m irritable from last night. Let’s just take a shower, alright?”

He scowls at me, his head shaking a bit, “Unbelievable…is sex the only-”

“An non-intimate shower.” I smirk at him, rubbing the inside of his wrist with my thumb, guiding him closer then eventually into an embrace, resting my chin on his sternum I give him a rare smile, “You’ve had one of those before, right?”

A blush dusts across his face as he reluctantly laces his hands across my lower back, averting his gaze on an obscure area in the room, “…of course.”

“Liar.” I chuckle, moving so that I held his hand, pulling him into the bedroom, stopping before the bathroom, “It’s easy, like showering, but with two people. It actually is quite easy, you have someone to wash your back, hair, it’s relaxing, trust me.”

Exhaling in a strange growl he runs a hand through his hair, “I don’t think I can just be naked around you and not want to…”

“Then learn.” I reply, gripping the hem of my button up, lifting it up and over my head, tossing it to the hamper in the corner of the room. Staring him dead into the eyes I then reach to the belt, unfastening it as casually as possible. He was burning red, causing those teal eyes to pop. It was fucking adorable how he could barely control himself around me, how his eyes longed to satisfy the carnal desires of the flesh. More than likely he saw this as a test of how long he could last without losing it with my nude body before him, when in reality I wanted to simply be with him for a bit longer before I had to sell myself.

Gripping the button to the pants between thumb, index finger and middle finger, the slacks are opened, completely so once the zipper goes down, then they were around my ankles, lastly kicked to the floor. Eren swallows thickly, rubbing the back of his neck, “Levi…”

“Just get in the shower, Eren.” I laugh, taking him by the wrist, pulling him into the room with me, locking the door.

***

The mornings are what get me through the nights, or so I imagine as hands wrench open the heavy door granting entry into Erwin’s club. Walking inside most of the lights were on, the place taking on an appearance less of a suave strip club and more of a strange office building from the modern colors whoever decorated chose. On the main stage, one of the girls takes notice in me, lowering her leg from the pole she flashes me a quick smile before hopping down to the ground level. Her body is long, like a ballet dancer, considering the strength it takes to perform most of these moves it wouldn’t be a surprise to learn that she is one. The girl is a bit on the short side with pale blond hair in a short, messy wavy bob that almost covered her slanted almond eyes. Those lips smiling at me seemed to be permanently twisted into a quirk. Extending a hand to me the smile softens, “Hey, you must be the new hire. I’m Hitch.”

Weird name. Regardless I grasp her hand, giving it a good shake, “Levi.”

“I know who you are.” She replies coyly, turning around to saunter back to the stage, “Showing up an hour before we open, that’s pretty ballsy, even if the boss has a hard on for you.”

“He doesn’t have a hard on for me, brat.” I growl.

“Sure.” She yawns, rubbing her face a bit, “I’ve got to get ready, but Smith wanted me to walk you through a few things before you started to bullshit your way through tonight.” A hand gestures to the largest stage of the four scattered strategically throughout the main room of the club, “This is One. From One, to the right is Two, to the left is Three, the four is adjacent to One. The main girls and men dance on One, we don’t usually have men except for special request, and those are mainly dealt with in the private rooms, which have small stages with a single pole and these really neat tip boxes, so you don’t have to worry about losing cash while stripping or dancing.”

Turning to me she nods towards the side, walking between One and Two, pulling back a curtain to reveal a large black door with a keypad above the door handle. Punching in six digits it opens, “This is where the changing rooms are, tonight I’ll help you with outfit and makeup, but after that it’ll cost you.” 

“How much?” 

“One daiquiri.” Hitch winks, swaying her hips as she proceeds down the hallway, stopping before two frosted double doors, punching in four numbers above that handle to reveal an expansive dressing room, complete with small private stalls, four large wardrobes, three full of women’s attire, one of what I presume is men’s. 

Whips, riding crops, boas along with any other kinky or stimulating prop one could think of was on display in an impossibly large shadow box with a lock and key on the side, the key carelessly left in the lock. There was a comfortable leather director’s chair placed before each of the seven large, expertly lit mirrors. Before the mirrors makeup was lain out on the countertops, each the exact same as the others, but some varied from what I suppose was other’s private stash. Hitch pats the third makeup chair, “Sit. We’ll do makeup then worry about outfit.”

Following her instructions I stare back at myself, freshly cleaned, shaven, in a plain black V-neck and khaki slacks with my coat and Eren’s scarf. The kid had carelessly left it on the kitchen counter when rushing to leave after our shower; apparently Mikasa was livid with him, nearly ready to behead him. It was a pale brown, soft yarn mixed with what I think to be wool. The article smelt of him, bringing a strange sense of comfort to me sitting in this seat, waiting to be a male Barbie doll to then become a male entertainer. Disgusting. I wonder what Eren would think of me were he to see me here, he’d probably joke and say that I needed to bring this into the bedroom or he’d become livid, never believing a word I said to him again, really walking out the door.

Hitch pulls up a stool from God only knows where, half sitting on it, pale eyes flickering as she scans my face, “You have really good skin.” She murmurs, holding the side of my face, “Really good skin. What do you use?”

“Soap?”

A short laugh escapes her, “Men. Well, we won’t have to worry about foundation, just some good contouring, eyeliner…on drag night I need to get my hands on you, you’d kill it in red lipstick.”

“Remind me to call in sick on drag nights.” I grumble as she opens a small nude palette, dusting a brush against a medium brown, beginning to apply it to the crevasses of my face, “…how long have you been here?”

The brush taps on the makeup again, “Long enough.” She sighs, “My boyfriend is the bartender here, he got me the job as a joke, joke was on him, I ended up liking it.” Another tap, more thoughtful this time, “I don’t like the names I get called though. You probably won’t be called whore or slut or bitch, but some customers think dirty talk is sexy, and you just have to grin and act like it’s a complement. But those words have serious weight.”

She seemed so young, maybe twenty if I had to venture her age, but the way she talked, it was clear she was older than her appearance led on. Not that I was one to judge, nearly thirty and still occasionally mistaken for a high school student at the Target downtown. 

“Men are cruel.” Her eyes flick up to mine, surprise in those light hues, “They think they’re entitled to too much just based on their sex. If any of them bother you too much, let me know.” 

A gentle smile drapes across her lips as she reaches for an eye pencil, uncapping it then sharpening it, “Thank you, Levi. I’ll keep that in mind.”

***

Eyeliner was created by Satan.

Hitch poked me in the eye at least seven times in less than fifteen minutes, if a letter of resignation doesn’t land on Erwin Smith’s desk because of my inability to handle perverted customers or if I sell Eren’s collection faster it will be because of the damned eyeliner. The time was eight thirty, Hitch along with the other girls had already left the dressing room to go dance and attend to private appointments. Meeting the other women was as I expected, most teased in a way that bordered on sexual harassment, while others gave a sad smile, their eyes asking why such an able man was in a place like this.

Looking at the reflection in the mirror, I cannot help but ask the same question, only to be quickly answered. Money. Money forced me into these tight leather pants, tall studded leather boots with the strange strapped suspender contraption stretching across my chest, that covered nearly no skin, being shirtless would’ve been more comfortable but apparently this shit is more arousing to the customers. Across the waist of the pants, a heavy studded belt was resting, along with a few chains running along the circumference of my hips. On my wrists were leather cuffs that easily snapped on and off; clinging to my upper right bicep was another cuff but thinner. Hitch had done a good job at hiding my tattoos with makeup, but insisted I keep the ‘slave’ across my knuckles showing, she said it fit the theme of tonight. My eyes seemed impossibly blue lined in black; my hair seemed darker too. The rest of my face was more defined, as if I had somehow become more conventionally attractive with more defined features from the contouring.

With all of the leather coupled with the makeup it felt as if I were wearing a Halloween costume of some bondage warlord who was the head of some sort of motorcycle gang. Or a borderline starving artist praying his huge deal went through in New York who was only here to pay the rent, debts and learn a few more things for the bedroom. Exhaling I touch my right arm, how long had it been since it was naked, free of tattoos? 

A quick knock on the door, the manager, Mike, an impossibly tall man, taller than Erwin even, lingered in the doorway, iPad propped on his forearm, nodding to me, “Got a stage   
name? You already have a private client.”

I frowned. Stage name? Shit. I never thought of that. It’s not like I had a hypothetical list already in my head for this sort of thing.

“Can’t I just go by Levi?”

“No.” he sniffs, tapping on the tablet, “I could Google suggestions for you.”

“That’s fine.” I cut him off, wracking my head for anything. Hange always called me Ravioli, but I’d rather try shoving that pole up my ass than go by that, Rivialle could work, but then I’d risk the connection with my art, especially since Eren was famous online, someone could draw an unwanted conclusion. When Farlan and Isabel were alive they’d sometimes jokingly call me Corporal, but Farlan would insist that I would be the rank of Lance Corporal. “What about Lance?”

“Lance what?” he asks dully, “Need a last name.”

“Corporal?”

He taps around on the devise, opening the door wider, “Come on, Lance Corporal, your appointment is waiting.”

Brows furrowing, I do as he says, following him down the hallway, back to the door Hitch led me through hours ago. The place was completely transformed at this time of night, pulsing music that thrummed throughout the body lingering between the legs. Lights strummed to the beat shaking the air, dancing around twirling women, their hips mesmerizing the eyes loitering behind tumbler glasses hidden in the shadows of the audience. Mike’s broad shoulders parted the stalled bodies in front of the iced door marked, ‘Private Appointments Only’, his large hand pushes it back to reveal another long hallway with dark oak doors lining the walls. Behind those doors, based on the deductions of similar music from outside seeping under the door coupled with applauding ‘yeahs’ and ‘oh baby’’s it wasn’t too hard to piece together what was going on.

Nerves gripped my throat and chest, a normal reaction I’d bet, soon these tight pants would be on the floor, along with these itchy straps that would no doubt chaff in due time. Maybe the cuffs on my wrists would stay, undoubtedly Satan’s eyeliner would remain. I’d have to be careful to wash it off before Eren ever saw me again.

“May I ask who I’ll be…entertaining?” I question as Mike stops by the last door on the right side, tapping away on his tablet.

“Mr. Erwin Smith and his associates.” He replies dully as if informing me of the color of the walls, “Your playlist will start with Courtesy Call by Thou-”

“Our fucking boss?” I sputter, gripping his iPad, forcing annoyed eyes to look at mine, “Are you fucking kidding? Is this a sick joke?” 

He frowns as he jerks the technology back to him, pressing it against his hip with one hand, “No. You did a more than satisfactory job pleasing him in your audition, Lance Corporal, keep it up, you would benefit from it.” 

“Why?” 

“Inside are his wealthy friends who share his same tastes in bed, if you catch my drift.” He places a hand on the door, “Behind this door is another, don’t go through that one, go to the right, that will have three steps and a small landing area. Wait in that area until you hear the playlist start, then feel free to part the curtain and do whatever it is you do. We have these set up for the tips of the men to go straight to your direct deposit, Mr. Smith finds slipping cash in a dancer’s clothes to be rude in these private settings.”

How courteous of him.

“What if I refuse?” I question, turning to face Mike directly.

A frown pulls his lips, opening the door beside us, slow seductive music toiling in the room, muted by the second door beyond the first, “You won’t. Not if you’re smart. Mr. Smith is the highest paying customer you could ever hope to get, standing him up or ignoring him would not be in your best interest. There’s an emergency button underneath the end of the catwalk, behind the small stage and right before you exit in case you need security called in. Press it three times and it calls the police and EMS. Try not to do that unless its life threatening. “

“Understood.” I grumble as he ushers me into the tiny black foyer, sure enough the second door was there, the exact amount of steps to the small holding area. Taking the door to the right I survey the area, seeing a small stereo system clearly operated from an outside source but could also be manually manipulated. The Thousand Foot Whatever song was on pause, Mike never told me to hit play but I was ready to get this over with and go home already. Sinking the flesh of my index finger into the play button the music thrums around me. Closing my eyes for a brief moment I shed myself from my conscious, shedding Levi and his pride, reminding myself of the debt I still had to pay, the rent and bills that would always be due, the house I one day wished to purchase for Eren, for the future I want. There was no promise for that art deal to go through, I cannot hang all of these problems on that, this horrible job is all I have secured. 

Tell 'em turn it up till they can't no more  
Lets get this thing shaking like a disco ball  
This is your last warning, a courtesy call

God, club music is so shitty, I’ll need to remind the six-foot tall blond tree to let me pick my own music to take these cheap clothes off to.

Just as with the audition, I listened to the music, anticipating the next beats in an attempt to have the dance appear as if I had rehearsed it countless times. Following the hard alternative rock of the song one arm throws the curtain back, exposing the roaming club lights, the group of six men casually lounging at the end of the catwalk, the ice blue eyes of Erwin immediately lock on mine. A smirk tempts his lips as he raises his glass, tipping the liquid back down his throat as my feet move me forward, swaying my hips slightly to the beat. I don’t know the lyrics, but from a technique learnt from a friend back in high school who hated being in the choir, I mouthed ‘watermelon’ to the song, hoping it was convincing enough.

Everybody sing, Hey-O  
Tell 'em turn it up till they can't no more  
Lets get this thing shaking like a disco ball  
This is your last warning, a courtesy call 

Finally I reached the pole as the first verse started up, one hand gripped it as I circle it, one foot in front of the other, as a runway model may walk, just without the grinding hip motions I was doing, catching the men’s eyes, their conversations fall then crescendo into derogatory comments. Elbows tapped Erwin’s sides, hands patted his shoulders, praise on this ‘hot new guy’ barely audible from the music. The man didn’t even acknowledge them, his eyes remained focused on me, scanning my body then moving back to my eyes. There was a strange mixture in those cool blue orbs, he wanted to stare at me vulgarly, I could tell especially as one strap popped off my shoulder, which caused two more to tumble off, hanging loosely around my hips. He wanted to be dirty, if it were just him and I in this room I’m certain he would’ve had me pinned against the wall or the floor, but he for some reason held back, as if he had to show me respect. Which in a sense he did, I was his employee, he my employer, I’m more than certain should he make any unwanted passes I could be more of a problem than an indulgence. Reaching up I remove the last of the straps, swiftly discarding them to the floor, kicking them back from the pole. A few of the men whistled, one suggested I start stripping the pants off. Giving him a knowing wink, I throw a leg onto the pole then quickly thrusting my entire weight against it. The hand not holding the pole lashes out to grip right above the one already established as my abdominal muscles lock while they lift my legs up higher the pole, all the while maintaining this effortless façade as I climb my way up the pole. 

Arm muscles screaming in pain, I force myself into place halfway up it, extending one leg out into the air, dipping myself backwards the long part of my undercut falling into my face for a moment before hanging for a moment as I hold the pose. A few men clap as the song rocks on, I kick the leg up over the other one, recoiling my torso closer to the pole as I swing up higher, twisting one leg around the pole, propping the other one out, muscles ripping in pain. God, the women who do this make it look so easy, I had never had a formal lesson, years of scrambling up fences, working out in prison and self workouts had me toned enough to hold myself for these poses, but installing a pole at home would be needed to practice if I was going to keep this job up.

I think it might wash away tonight  
Awaken from this never-ending fight  
It takes more than meets the eye  
This war we're fighting is not just rotting 

Something about this was exhilarating; the guitars, drums, washed the revolving comments spilling out of the men’s lips away the singer’s voice enveloping us. Their faces blurred in the flashing lights, the adrenaline began to kick in tenfold as I realized it was time to lose the pants. Sliding back down the pole I land with both hands above my head, hips jutted forward as I sink into a crouch, front a center. Carefully, I drag the zipper of the boot down one foot, then the other, returning my hand back to the pole. Using my feet I slowly work off the shoes, nudging them off the side of the stage then sliding my feet back to me, rising to my full height. Having one hand on the pole I run a hand down my sweaty torso, pinching my own nipple, gaining a reaction from Erwin, his eyes widening as he swallows thickly, sinking further into the couch.

“Is this what you’ve waited for, pigs?!” I ask, barely able to shout over the music, the hand on the front button of the leather pants, unfastening it, pushing the zipper apart with two fingers.

Cool air flushed on the sensitive skin, causing the area to flex and drawing a sharp inhale from me, as if this aroused me as opposed to exhilarated me. I wasn’t sexually stimulated, just stimulated, being on display like this, shedding everything for the sake of a price tag. Snapping my hips side to side I work the pants off, discarding them as I had the straps, now in nothing but the strappy male underwear, which I’m sure Hitch lied to me about and is actually women’s. 

Erwin’s face was blood red; his hand on the table was curled into a fist, nearly trembling. He was reaching the end of his ability to hold himself back. This was an establishment of urges after all, and while I appreciated his need for class, this was not a place for it, no matter how lavish you make it out to be. A whorehouse is a whorehouse, plain and simple. They come in many forms, but all have the same purpose and people.

This your last warning, a courtesy call 

The guitar ending started to rage in the small room, I resumed to grinding on the pole, dropping down low, gripping between my legs, smirking back at the men. Suddenly clearing his throat, Erwin beckons a finger towards me only to immediately snap it to point to his lap.

“Come here.” He orders, articulating the words to sound like suggestion, “…Lance Corporal was it?”

“Yes, sir.” I respond, the ending still hammering out as I make my way to the end of the catwalk, jumping slightly to land on his table before the couch he was lounging on. Carefully, I manage to slip atop him, straddling him, lightly grinding teasingly as I run a finger along his jawline, “What is it you want? Lap dance.”

“Yes.” He nearly growls, placing a hand on the small of my back, slipping a finger or two under the straps going across my ass, “Gentlemen, I would like this to be a private affair if you don’t mind.”

His friends give him a mixture of knowing smirks and frowns of disappointment. One man slaps my ass, tossing a hundred dollar bill at me, “I call dibs on a private show when you’re done, Smith.”

“Fair enough.” He calls after him, not even bothering to make eye contact, those remained on me as his thumb rubs the tingling skin. Leaning forward slightly, he kisses on my neck, collarbone, his breath comes out hot and wanting below my ear, “How much do I have to pay you to have you here and now?”

Swallowing thickly I force myself to stay put, I wanted nothing more than to kick him in the face and leave. He said I only have to completely whore myself out on my consent, giving anyone sex, even my boss, was not a requirement of this job. I would never give anyone myself here, not after this morning with Eren. Were he in this position I would fight tooth and nail to ensure he had the money he needed to make sure he never stepped foot in a place like this again. And I’m more than certain he would return the favor, however, with his mother’s passing, college and starting up in modeling my monetary issues were not to be a burden on him under any circumstances.

“Not for sale.” I exhale, forcing myself to cart my fingers through his hair, resting my hand on the nape of his neck, “But you can have the lap dance, another private show.”

“Levi.” He breathes, pulling me tighter to him, determination in his eyes, one hand firmly clasping my lower back, the other now wound around my shoulders. This man was all encompassing, just as he was the other night. It was hard to breathe around him, I knew he could probably overpower me with his pinky finger, if he really wanted this, there was very little I could do, “Levi…name a number, any number, I’ll give it to you, double it even.” He kisses my jaw again, tightening his hold, “Let me have you one night. Tonight.”

“No.” I frown, dropping the fake lust and love people in this profession project, “You said when I signed up I don’t have to sleep with anyone, I have no intention to sleep with you. But I’ll fulfill anything else you’d ask, sex is not something you’ll ever have from me.”

His jaw sets as he mulls over my words, the arm around my shoulders shifts so his fingers can play with the hair at the back of my head, running a finger down the nape of my neck to my spine then back he nods, respecting my wishes. “You could ask for a million dollars right now and I’d give it to you.” He murmurs, a tenderness in his eyes, “There’s something about you, Levi, I could sense it when you walked in here.”

“Don’t.”

“Listen.” He insists, “Fine, you won’t give yourself to me, I understand, and I’m not a man to make you have me. But when my friend slapped your ass just then…” he shakes his head, an anger flashing in his eyes, “Let me make you an offer. You only take private bookings with me, I’ll pay you whatever rate you set, plus you’ll be dancing on the main stages with the other girls. If its someone who will pay just as well as I will, I’ll offer them your way, but you would only dance for men or women who I approve of.” He kisses my jaw again, “It’s a damn good deal, Levi.”

It was a good deal, a very good one at that. This would make circumstances with Erwin more difficult, but I could handle that. Exhaling I smirk, wrapping my arms around his neck, leaning into him, hating myself for every gesture I made, silently begging Eren to forgive me, “When do I start?” I purr into his ear, licking the lobe of it, nipping gentle.

A moan escapes him, he tries to mask with a cough, “Tomorrow night.” He replies, carefully prying me off him, “Tonight you’ll be with my business partners, I owe them from the tease, and it’ll be good money for you.” He gives me a tender smile, holding the side of my face, “Remember, you’re not obligated to do anything you do not wish to do here.”

…

It was a long ass night, at six in the morning was when I finally got home, and reeking of colognes, perfumes and other scents I didn’t wish to have on me. A long bath sounded amazing, but knowing me I’d probably fall asleep in it and possibly drown. Bed it was. Unlocking the door I trudge inside, discarding the gym bag now filled with new stripper clothes I’d borrowed to practice at home during the weekdays so I wouldn’t be as inexperienced on the pole.

Running a hand through my hair I scratch my scalp, stripping out of my street clothes, only in my underwear as I crash into the bed, exhaling with relief at the familiarity of it, Eren’s scent strongly embedded in the sheets. Smiling I extend my arm out, feeling around from him, suddenly reminded that he went back to his dorm room this morning, of course he wouldn’t be here. The smile quickly fades as I move to grip my pants off the floor, rummaging through them to find my phone, six missed texts from Erwin, three from Hange, two from Mike, four from Petra, one from my neighbor and none from Eren. 

Frowning I fall back into the sheets, tapping away on the screen, reviewing our last text conversation, back when he was hiding out in my bedroom mourning for days on end. It was the night I fucked up. He had been tracking my flight, sent a text as I departed New York saying, ‘Have a safe flight, see you soon.’

I wanted to see him now.

Closing my eyes I start to relax into the sheets, mind fading to black until a loud bang sounded from outside the bedroom. Who the fuck was knocking at this hour in the morning? Opting to ignore it, I turn away from the doorway, as if the person standing outside my loft could see me. The banging got louder as if someone were kicking the door. Groaning, I force myself upright, dragging my body to the door, prying it open to see the face of a man I hoped to still be in Nevada somewhere.

He grins at me, raising his gun in a gesticulated greeting, “Hey, runt, long time no see. It’s been awhile.”


	16. SIXTEEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meh, who reads these?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long time between updates! I'll try to be quicker about it! ; ;   
> Thank you for reading! <3

He’s never been a forgiving man, and it would be a long, long time before he forgave the seven fractures inflicted upon his hand when I slammed the door on it upon his surprise arrival. Never have my legs moved so fast in my life, still dripping in club attire, makeup, with my entire body throbbing from using muscles I hadn’t touched in years, my dramatic behavior had resulted in me tripping over one of Eren’s shoes that he so lovingly left on the floor. Face then chest slamming on the hardwood, the creak sounds behind me, an affirmed click of the deadbolt being twisted into place then boot encrusted footsteps. Opening my eyes I saw them, as I had seen them when I was a teenage in this same position, but it wasn’t shoes that betrayed me, it was his bi-polar disorder.

“Levi…” he sighed, a hand carts through my hair, patting the side of my cheek, rubbing the pads of his fingertips together, “Is this…glitter?”

“I was at the club.”

“Still womanizing.” He frowned, “That’s disrespectful, boy.”

Clearing my throat, I remained there, afraid of what he would do if I dared move, if he would take it as a sign of defiance and beat the shit out of me then and there. It would certainly fit him, and with my body in the shape that it is, I couldn’t hold my own against him too well. “What do you want? I don’t have all of the money yet. I have someone else dealing with that now.”

A laugh, “Right to the nasty parts, huh? You haven’t changed.”

“Have you?”

A long pause, “I’m not here to hurt you, Levi. And fixing up my hand will be a pain in my ass since I can’t legally go inside a hospital…” his skeletal fingers curled around my shoulders, hoisting me upright, his cold, tired eyes focusing on mine, “You still good at cooking, boy?”

“…as good as I was.”

He grinned, “Good. Prison food sucks ass.”

“I know.” 

Another laugh, this one was genuine, as he held me briefly, “You reek of…god you were at the clubs. Go take a shower. Then we’ll talk.”

“About what?” I asked, gingerly raising to my full height, he did the same. 

He flashed me another smile, it was sad, torn, the man was broken, and he had come to me because I was all he could come to. Which I knew a main part of why he hadn’t killed me yet was because I look too much like his sister. “We’ll talk about it when you get out of the shower. Afterwards, you mind making eggs and ham?”

“I’m out of ham.”

“I’ll get more.”

Sitting in the shower I open my eyes, the artificial rain impossibly comforting at its incredibly high temperature, rolling down every centimeter of my body. The steam was working wonders for my muscles, and from Hange’s weird magazines I had tried that eucalyptus trick in the shower, which was some sort of alchemy, I swear. Any other normal person would have taken this golden moment of opportunity to run from a criminally insane man who had been taken down at the supremacy of his drug ring ruling. 

This man, so much was off my shoulders with him hidden in that prison, some anonymous benefactor who was undoubtedly my father, had paid for my release, something I didn’t think was possible until it happened. These past months have been stressful in their own retrospect but with the knowledge of Kenny away, that kept my debt at bay, which gave me more time to sort things out. Well, we all run out of time eventually. 

Cleaned, I turn off the water, staying in the small area, propped against the white tile, staring at the dripping water as the door open and closes from outside. That didn’t take Kenny too long to go get more ham; usually he’s a bit pickier when it comes to that sort of thing. If there’s one thing Kenny loves more than gutting someone, it’s meat. Towel dried, I select casual clothes, loose black slacks with a black button up, something nice enough to be murdered in or go get coffee but nothing better than that. Combing my hair back into a slicked back style to let it dry, I exit the room, scanning it for that awkward, skinny man’s form probably perched by the bar. Instead of that horrid waste of human existence, the boy that’s almost always on my mind was in the act of sliding off his jacket. 

Giving me a half smile he slowly folds it over his arm, clearing his throat, “Hey.”

“Hey…” 

“Sorry about not replying to much of anything.” He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck, shuffling towards me, eyes trained on the floor, “There’s been a lot going on…and I thought you were mad.”

“You thought I was mad but you come into my house like it’s nothing?”

“You never took the key back.” He nearly snaps, his stance stiffening, “…my mother’s funeral was two days ago.”

Shit. 

Swallowing thickly I take a few steps closer to him, “Eren…”

“Its fine…sorry, that’s a shitty conversation starter.” He fake laughs, waving a hand, running it through his hair, closing his eyes, “…I heard from my agent with the modeling agency. A lots going on right now all of the sudden…that portrait you painted.”

“I know.” I cut him off, now closer to him, a hand on his neck, playing with the hair at the nape of it, “Things are really taking off faster than I expected, my…agent went behind my back about a few things.”

He smiles thinly, his eyes were bloodshot, “That sucks.”

“It does.”

“But you’re becoming famous, Levi. Well. At least your art is. That’s how I’m getting all of these jobs, I’ve been so busy. I’ve got the next week off, I wanted to spend some time with you before-”

The doorknob jiggles, instinctively I grip Eren’s wrist, hastily pulling him to my room, “Levi you’re hurting me.” He snaps, suddenly angry as he struggles against my hold. 

Pushing him into the room I place a finger against his lips, “Trust me. Stay here, don’t make a word, there’s someone…I’ll explain later. Just do as I say.”

“Why?”

“Eren.” I growl, gripping his chin between my fingers, “This man cannot see you, do you understand me? There’s a lot you don’t know about me, this guy’s dangerous, just…please.”

I don’t let him reply, the door swings open forcing me to shut this one. Turning around casually I meet my uncle’s stare. The bastard went to the expensive deli with my wallet in hand.

“Hope you don’t mind.” He grins, returning the wallet to the countertop as he drops the ham on the stove, “I figured since I was the guest and all…” I go to the kitchen, forcing myself not to look at the bedroom door as I unpack the meat and start to gather the materials out of the fridge, “Plus money should be no problem for ya, Shorty, I keep seeing ‘Levi Rivialalala-whatever’ all over the place of that pretty boy…girl…”

I cut him a look.

“Boy?”

“The model is a boy.” Discarding the cracked eggshells I continue normally, “I know you’re not here to discuss my art. What do you want?”

Sighing he crosses his arms on the countertop, a gun peeking from his coat pocket, “Money, kiddo. I need money. Hiding from the law ain’t easy.”

“Then go back to prison.”

“Fuck you.” He frowns, “You’re famous and all now, plus you owe me a fuck ton from the fallen deal back in Orlando.”

“I don’t have any money.” I snap, meeting his gaze, “Barely enough to support my own ass, much less yours. But sure, once I make millions, instead of hiring security against you, I’ll just pay you off.”

Growling, he stands abruptly; drawing his gun, “Watch your mouth you fucking shit! I go easy on you because you look like Kuchel, but don’t think I’ll go easy on you when you disrespect me.”

“Go ahead, fire it. I’m sure that’ll just get the police a few more steps closer to finding you.” 

His face contorts as he fights logic over his violent urges. Without warning he backhands me with the gun, his hand shaking as he points it at me, “You filthy little shit.” He spits, “I’d pay money for your to have been born from anyone but your father. You have her face but his disgusting, manipulative, calculating mind.” Stepping closer he grips a fistful of my shirt, hot breath too close, “You will get me that money, you bastard. I’ve got a few more collections to make, since we’re family n’ all I’ll make you the last. Give you more time.” The gun presses into the flesh of my abdomen, “If its not here…well…by that time I won’t have to worry about the police comin’ for a little gun shot.”

Saying nothing I wait until he had his fill of digging the gun in as far as the skin beneath it would allow. Emitting a slight grunt he pockets the gun, swiping his hat from the counter, which I hadn’t noticed to be deposited until it was withdrawn. Adjusting it on his greasy head he wets his lips, “A month. Maybe two. There’s a lot of doorsteps I gotta go to, lot of bodies that I’ll probably have to sink.” Turning around he offers a half smile, “You were good at your job back n’ the day, Levi. Clean slate if you come with.”

I resume cooking breakfast, “I doubt my father would be nearly as kind the second time he finds out I was in prison.”

“What?”

“The benefactor. My father was the benefactor from my prison bail. Who else would drop that much money for my freedom?”

A curious noise emits from the back of Kenny’s throat, blood falls from the cut on my cheek from when Kenny slammed the barrel of his gun into it, “Is that who you think paid that?” he chuckles, “Ah, no…stupid brat. Your father is not that kind…” he starts to mutter a few things to himself about leverage and blackmail, “Thanks for the information kiddo, that bought you some time.”

“Get out.” I snap, “The hallway is cold, I don’t need a higher heating bill than I already have.”

“Goodbye, for now, runt.” He murmurs before leaving, the door signaling his absence with a loud crack breaking the conversation to silence.

Exhaling, eyes close as a hand presses to my forehead, my own fingers cool, refreshing against hot skin. Inside the bedroom Eren stirs, without consent that door opens as well, his footsteps mixing in with his worried rant, “What the hell was that, Levi?” he snaps, anger quickly dissolving to concern, “You’re bleeding.”

Pulling my hands from my face I stare at him, large teal eyes focused on the cut left from the slap with the gun. Chuckling I touch the blood running down my cheek, “This is nothing.”

“It’s not nothing to me.” He replies venomously, roughly moving between the island counter and I, ripping a paper towel free before he wets it, wrings it out then gently touches my jaw, “Look at me.”

Obeying, he starts to gently clean up the traveled blood. His breath lightly hits against my cheek, those fingers carefully wiping at the wound as he shakes his head, “What was that all about?”

“It’s not important.”

Anger flares in his features, as he grips my shoulder, “…who was he?”

“My uncle.”

“And he…”

“Yes, he hit me, not all parental figures are good ones.”

His mouth sets into a fine line, “Trust me. I know. Levi…you said that man was dangerous, so much so you hid me from him. I think you owe me an explanation on that if not on your conversation.”

“Fine.” Sidestepping him I continue to cook, reaching into one of the drawers for a hidden e-cig, clicking it a few times to get it started, claiming a few lungful’s of the artificial smoke. “His name’s Kenny, I owe him a lot of money, we worked pretty closely selling and dealing drugs. When my mother died, I gravitated towards him since my father…his wife…it was a better situation.” Scrambling the eggs in the pan I set it to a low heat, working diligently to cut the ham and onions, “Somehow the bastard got out of prison, wants his money that I owe him.”

“Your mother died?” Eren whispers, voice taught with pain, tears lining every word, “When?”

The knife freezes mid-cut, our eyes meet. Wetting my throat I maintain eye contact, “When I was very young. I don’t remember her much.”

“I’m so sorry, Levi.”

“It was long ago, Eren.”

“But still…”

Gifting him a smile I set the knife down, reaching to grip his hand, pulling him to me, kissing his cheek, “It’s in the past. It hurts a bit, but she’s gone and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

Tears spill out of his eyes as he inhales shakily, hastily wiping at them as he holds me tight to his chest, the warmth his body gives off immediately enveloping me. “We buried her the other day…” he chokes, fingers digging into the flesh between my shoulder blades, “She’s-”

“I know.” I murmur, moving an arm to stroke the back of his head, tenderly playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, “I know, Eren.”

He grips me tighter, burying his face in the crook of my neck, breath hot and sticky as he fights the need to cry. This boy knows that I do not care if he cries in front of me, nor would I judge him for doing such a thing on behalf of his mother’s passing or of any other circumstance. At least he knows better to cry, this much is evident in the wetness growing on my shoulder, he’s done what took me nearly fifteen years to do. Closing my eyes I simply hold him until he pulls away, wiping at his nose and eyes, inhaling shakily. 

“I didn’t come here to cry.” He murmurs, averting his stare to the floor.

“But that doesn’t mean I think any less of you for doing so.”

A short, strange laugh escapes him as he takes my hand, running the flesh of his thumb over the ‘slave’ tattoo over my knuckles, “Thank you, Levi…for always being as kind as you know how to me.” Those large orbs lock onto me as he lets out an uneven exhale, “I have a job interview in New York.”

“Do you?” a brow goes up, a tightness started to grip my heart, “With what?”

“My modeling agency, they want to sign me on with another, Garrison Models.”

“That’s great.” I encourage him, giving his upper arms a warm squeeze, “More agencies means more jobs, money and success. I’m proud of you.”

He shakes his head, “No, I-I’m happy about that, trust me, after all the shit I’ve…listen. If I get this job I’ll have to move to New York City, most of my shoots are being scheduled there or L.A. anyways. I asked if I get signed on if there was anyway to work from Chicago still…”

“Stop.”

Tears were already lining his eyes from the thought of moving, his point was painfully clear in every word, in how he wasn’t being nearly as direct as he typically is. The reality that he would be taken so quickly from me was hitting hard already, but it was a reality we both had to face head on. However, the horrible, brief, panicked pain that drove me to hide him from Kenny, I knew he was different from anyone I’ve met or even considered loved. He was not something I would willingly let go so easily.

“Go.” The word leaves my lips effortlessly, shock rips his features as he claims a step back, disgust filtering through his eyes as his lips struggle to form words, “Go to the interview, knock them dead, get the job. I’ll be right there with you the whole way through.”

The suppressed water streams down his cheeks immediately as he laughs, roughly shoving me then embracing me again before releasing me. “Levi! You bastard.” He runs both hands through his hair over and over as his eyes flicker, calculating the situation, “A-are you serious? You’d move to Manhattan for me?”

“With you.” I correct him, turning back to the food, “I’ll move with you, I might have to go there anyways for the collection of your portraits.”

He beams, wrapping his arms around my waist, placing tender kissing along my neck then jaw, “I love you.” He whispers, “I really love you, Levi.”

Shifting my position makes it easier to capture his lips against mine, holding the moment as long as possible before we need air. After a quick inhale he’s mine again, captured in a ironbound embrace, one he had to feel to fully understand how much he was, how valuable he is to me. Never have I needed or craved someone as I do him, nor has a huge choice such as this one been so simple, if he goes I go, it doesn’t matter where, just that we are together. Reaching up, his hands cup my jaw, thumbs gingerly stroking the skin as he backs me into the countertop best he can from his crushed stance. His tongue starts to entwine with mine, sliding and rubbing all of the right areas that draw a breathy moan from me as he takes advantage of relaxing muscles to slip his arms free, a hand darting out to turn off the stove then grip the backs of my thighs, lifting me into his arms. 

Maintaining the kisses he walks a few steps to hold me against the wall, my legs securely wrapped around his defined waist as he curls his fingers into the flesh of my ass. Breathing heavily, lust filled eyes burn into me, “Strip.” He orders, suddenly moving, before I could fully realize it I was on the floor with him above me, his word stabbing into some strange place, other voices from last night sounded like that, but less tender.

His fingers clamp around the hem of my shirt as he shoves it up as far as it allows, his own body slowly sliding down, lips dancing across skin as he travels lower, murmuring again, “Strip.”

I didn’t want to, not in the way it was said, how it paralleled to those men last night, their jeering tones melting into the music as I forced myself to comply, ‘Strip, babe, that’s nice, bend like that!’ a few bills would be thrown, ‘Strip faster, sexy!’

“…Levi?” 

Blinking I look down to see his lips hovering over the button of my pants, “…do you not want to?”

Shaking my head I lay my head back down, closing my eyes, this is stupid, Eren’s not a customer, he’ll never be a customer if I had anything to say about it. Unlike them, he cares, he doesn’t want my body he wants me. Swallowing back all of those bitter memories built up in one night a hand reaches out to slip into his impossibly thick locks, soft brown hair spiked between pale fingers. Smiling at him I force myself to sit upright in order to kiss him, forcing his head upright from the grasp in his hair, drawing a loud groan, “You want me to strip for you, Eren?” I rasp, “Then you strip me.”

He grins against the kisses, roughly gripping my shoulders, shoving me back down onto the floor as he forces the shirt off, a slight ripping hissing in the air, “You asked for it.” He replies, large hands now eagerly working to get the rest off, within seconds I lie on the hardwood stark naked. 

Large blue-green eyes flicker, soaking in the view before him. Kissing my lips once more he straddles me, lightly dragging his hands up and down the length of the torso beneath him, pinching the nipples, rolling the hardened skin between his index finger and thumb. Bending down he laps at the area, left then right, right then left, giving each side a fair amount as if the other would be upset by the inequality. It didn’t matter, he could just breathe on the skin and it would still drive me mad as my eyes flutter closed, hands reach up to cling onto the flesh of his thighs, hips rising from the rising erection. Feeling it, he slowly starts to roll his hips atop it, still fully clothed, keeping up the game as he continues to fondle one nipple then licks at the shell of my ear, breathing hotly against the area, moaning my name.

“Levi…god Levi…” he abruptly grabs my hands, slamming the wrists together, maintaining the position with one hand as he reaches to his own jeans, hurriedly unweaving his belt. The fire he ignited in my stomach toiled furiously at the excitement of him taking charge like this, it burns up my entire torso as he secures the belt around my wrists, forcing them together. “Bedroom. Now.” He exhales against my lips before joining ours together for a heated kiss, his sturdy arms enveloping me, slinging his prize over his shoulder as he fast walks to the bed. 

A hand firmly keeps me in place as another reaches between my legs; his lips kiss the skin closest to him as he rubs the sensitive area teasingly before slamming me down onto the bed. Gripping the excess on the belt he forces my arms above my head, his mouth ravenously working against mine as he uses his spare hand to undo his zipper and jeans, springing his own erection free, quick to grind it against my entrance. Gasping out I wish to grip his shoulder and warn him on being so rough, the efforts of last night still had done quite the number on my body and as much as I wanted him he couldn’t just barrel his way in. 

He must’ve read this on my face as he chuckles, caressing the left side of my face, joining our lips tenderly, those eyes melting me as he gently continues, speaking against my mouth, “Relax.”

Obeying, my upper body reclines into the mattress, wholly surrendering to him as he maintains the grinding but hungrily consumes the side of my neck. Undoubtedly he would leave marks, but nothing would make me happier. Let him leave them, hell with the rolling of hips paired with heated moans, Eren was anything but discouraged before he breaks it off to quickly secure the excess of the belt to the bedframe. Satisfied he emits a low growl, “You look good like this.”

“Shut up.” 

“Gladly.” He chuckles, fingers dance across my cheek, neck, and chest as he leads them between my legs where they start to work.

Those eyes stay locked on me, I could feel them through the blindness of having my own shut. He was observing this as he probably had when he made that painting of us together for his project. Part of me wanted to imagine how I appeared to him, this writhing mess completely subdued to him, by him. Yet, as those skilled fingertips tease and toy soft, tender skin paired with the excitement of not have control, that curiosity fades with the euphoria of a building climax. The thing Eren knew how to do was keep the body satisfied, constantly in a state of arousal until suddenly you were gripped with this agonizing, indescribable bliss. He knew how to draw out a pleasure that shot throughout my body in jolts blooming from wherever he was touching. 

Without warning he starts to push harder against me with the constant grinding. A deep moan leaves as he winds his arms around my torso, burying his face in the crook of my neck, carefully finding his way. Remaining like that for a moment he deepens the actions against my neck, below my ear, on my cheek, his husky voice breathlessly confessing again, “I love you.”

“I love you, Eren.” I choke out, turning my head towards his, “I love you…”


	17. EREN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Levi takes Eren on a fancy ass date <3

When I was younger, life was difficult, not as difficult as it is now, but still rough. Back then we dealt with Dad’s issues with alcohol, Mom’s three jobs and when I was nine, we welcomed Mikasa to our family. My father was never really there for me, but in his year of staying sober, he gave me someone who would fill in all of the gaps he left. When I’d fall, her hand would lash out to steady me, when I failed it was her words that would motivate me to keep moving forward and when I wanted to end it all in tenth grade, it was her who flushed the medication down the toilet.

She’s been my rock alongside Armin for as long as I can remember. They’ve always been two strong boulders that I can grip to and know without doubt that they won’t budge. I’ve told them everything, every painful detail, immediately after it happened. But lately, those people that I’ve relied on so heavily seem like strangers on those deep intimate levels.

Armin had his back to me, bent slightly at the waist as he folds his polo’s and argyle knit sweaters. It’s getting colder in Chicago, so he’s been washing as many layers as he can, poor kid has no body fat. Since my mother’s passing, he’s been dead quiet, not talking unless I do so first or really reaching out much at all. He’s always been awkward in situations like this and he’s even worse whenever Levi comes up in conversation. Clearing my throat I stretch on the bed, still recovering from a weekend in Levi’s apartment, “So…how’s that one lit class going?”

He shrugs, “Alright, I’m ready for break to happen so we can go home for a week.”

“After that’s finals though…”

“…right.”

I scratch my stomach, running fingers over toned muscles, staying with Levi, having near constant sex with him had really kicked me back into shape. The man had a ridiculous appetite, which I was more than happy to feed. However, when I stopped moving, it hit on just how much he’d make me work. He was what was holding me up for now; it was his apartment where I ran off to grieve my mother. Which those feelings slam back into my chest the moment I look in the mirror, I have all of her features but with a bit of my father thrown in there. His traits show in the brown hair. 

“I leave for New York in a day.” I yawn, rolling to my side, capturing a pillow in my arms to keep myself upright.

“You got lucky that they let you finish your finals early to go.” He murmurs, starting to pack his laundry into drawers.

“I wouldn’t have been able to do it without my amazing tutor.”

A smile, that quickly dissolves into a frown, “Have you told Levi?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“And what?”

He whirls around, a hand perched on his hip, agitation in his features as he makes a strangling motion with his hand, “And is he concerned for you and your situation at all, Eren?” he snaps angrily, “Does he know that your mother is dead? Is he aware of how stressed you are with your schoolwork and modeling not to mention,” he closes his eyes tightly, exhaling deeply, “You’ve told him that much, right?”

A weight begins to press into my chest as I avert my stare away to a messy pile of shoes, clothes and discarded paper.

“You haven’t. Eren…”

“We’re not even dating.” I snap, anger flaring as the hold on the pillow tightens. My emotions were already at my sleeve on a good day, now they’re at my fingertips and no better than landmines. “So it doesn’t matter, alright? I don’t know where we are to be honest, but whatever it is, I’m happy. Plus, it might go away, just because it didn’t…” my voice starts to crack, coating itself with emotion, words become impossible to formulate, “I’ll be fine. And if I’m not fine, then I don’t want our time together with the pressure of that.” 

“And if it doesn’t go away?” he demands, his hands shaking as he looms over my bed, bright blue eyes brimming with tears, a ragged inhale ripping from him, “What then? You’ll just…he’ll feel lied to.”

“Since when did you care about Levi’s feelings?”

“Since you started keeping things from Mikasa and I!” he shouts, gripping my upper arm, forcing me in an awkward sitting position, “I love you Eren, not just in the way that I did when we were together, but as a friend, as family. Mikasa is literally all you have left, and you are all she has. What you do with Levi is your business, but it’s not right to keep him in the dark, and it’s disrespectful that you haven’t even-”

“You want me to tell her right after Mom’s gone?” I wrench my arm out of his hold, bullying my way off the bed, standing before him, “Think about that, Armin! She will know. She has to for the treatment later…just give her more time to heal what’s already happened.”

He nods, sinking down to sit on the bed, burying his face in his hands, muffled cries passing through forced therapeutic breathing. “I don’t want to lose you, Eren.”

“I don’t want that either.” I murmur, taking a seat beside him, wrapping an arm around shaking shoulders then guiding him into my chest, “They say it’s mild. I’ll start treatment when I come home from New York. I’ll need you to help me go to and from the hospital, after New Years I’ll tell Mikasa, that’ll give her enough time.”

A weak sigh, “Just as long as you tell her, Eren.”

Not telling her was out of the question, the cancer had hit my mother hard at the end, and there wasn’t much time to make decisions or plans. But if this does turn into the same situation as my mother’s, I want Mikasa to have time to plan, I want to do all I can to not put her under the stress that they did with my mother. It was hell seeing her have to deal with all of the medical information and make the calls since my father is unreachable. 

Ideally, even though we haven’t been together for that long, I want him to have the responsibility. I want him to know, I want his hand holding mine the entire time as I go through this and I want the burden off her, she’s too young. But Levi, he’s much older and more than able to handle this situation better than she can. I want to marry him; I want to die his, with him at my side, if it comes to that. But while he can tell me that he loves me, he can’t tell me what his sexuality is nor can he tell me where the glitter and hickies come from. For the weekend he let me do what I’ve been making a habit of, staying over at his place. During the day it was great, I would do homework in his tiny living room, he would either be sleeping or curled up by his little makeshift studio area with those steel grey eyes flickering from me to a propped up canvass. At night he would go out to his job, he claims its bartending at a club, that that’s where the glitter comes from. But those marks on his torso and hips, they did not come from me, no matter how well he spins up a lie. 

The night I waited up for him flashes in my mind, he was gone to New York for a meeting about his art collection, came home two hours later than he should’ve. I had opened the door to a drunken mess of a lover in the arms of a large blond man, who looked like he should be in movies or high end modeling shoots, not the dingy hallway of Levi’s run down apartment complex. He said the man is his boss, but by the way that the blond slightly glowered at me, how his hands lingered on Levi longer than needed, it was clear there’s something else going on between them.

I trust Levi, I trust him not to lie to me. Hell, if there was an affair it’s clearly nothing serious. Or maybe I’m the affair.

Exhaling I rub my eyes, wanting to cry from all of this pressure, but now was not the time. Armin wipes at his cheeks flashing me a shaky smile, pulling a small envelope from his jacket pocket, hand trembling slightly, “Anyways…Levi wanted me to give this to you. I’ve got to go tutor Jean in Renaissance Art History.” He gives my upper arm a strong squeeze, “See you when you get back from New York. Pick me up a souvenir or I’ll kick your ass.”

Unable to suppress a laugh I shake my head, “Alright, I’ll get you a t-shirt or-”

“No.” he sniffs, dragging his messenger bag over his torso, “I want a signed copy of ‘A Casual Vacancy’ by J.K. She’s in town this weekend doing a signing in Madison Square. Trust me, you’ll owe me.”

“Ummm what?” I choke out, watching him, he who was sobbing just moments ago saunter out of the room like the underhanded diva he is.

“The envelope, Eren!” he calls out as the door slams shut.

Following his last minute instructions, I shift my gaze to the thick folded paper in my hands. It’s a fine envelope, the thick fancy types that someone would get for a wedding or graduation announcement. On the front my name is written in his hand, a simple ‘Eren’, sweet and to the point, blunt like him. Peeling back the lip, there’s another equally nice piece of cardstock paper, but from the veined grooves, its clear that its one of his nice French watercolor papers. 

‘Meet me downstairs at eight. Check your closet for proper attire. Try to at least comb your hair.   
Love, Levi’

Turning it over there was a sketch of me in side profile looking out the window of his living room biting on a pencil. On the bottom his handwriting read, ‘My love, November 20th, 2014.’ He had lightly gone over it in watercolor, but for the most part it is a detailed graphite piece. A few tears come forth, spilling in messy circles above my drawn self’s head. If I am the affair, I’ll gladly remain a cheating fool for this man.

…

Eight o’ clock. 

I tired to comb my hair, honest to god I did, but my mother had thick hair, which she passed to me. In the closet was a tux, not just a rent-a-tux for buffet style weddings, no, a fine ass tux that probably cost my college tuition. There were equally expensive shoes and a matching belt. On the bathroom sink were diamond and titanium cufflinks. 

Staring at myself I twist a link, the tightness in my stomach growing stronger. He had mentioned that he dealt in drugs in the past, that he’s dangerous. At first it was hard to believe him, but now, standing in a Louis Vuitton suit and other foreign accessories, that possibility is painfully possible.

It’s time, if I’m even a little late, who knows what kind of hell may await me in Levi’s car or if he even still has that car. Walking out the door a loud wolf whistle sounds from a few doors down, Marco was paused in the doorway of Annie’s room, “Looking nice, Eren! Where are you going? To meet the President?”

“No, no! I uhh…” 

‘I’m going on a surprise date with my possible drug dealer boyfriend.’ Is what I wanted to say.

“I have a meeting.” I smile, shutting the door to the dorm room, “Which I’m late for, I’ll see you later, Marco.”

“Knock him dead, Jaeger!” 

Rolling my eyes I nearly run down to the outside of the dormitory, which was a harder task than usual between all of the comments as bad if not worse than Marco’s. True to the placard now pinned above my desk, he was waiting out front. Even through the tint his form is visible, and it send chills throughout my body, freezing me where I stand. 

Levi would murder me for saying it aloud, but he’s gorgeous, he’s probably one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever seen. He has crème skin, jet black hair, sharp facial features, a body sculpted by the fucking gods and chilling light blue eyes intermingled with greys. When he taught here, every girl wanted him if they saw him, even some guys would joke about ‘banging him.’ Even when I went on a whim in Armin’s shop did I think he’d give me the time of day much less waiting for me dressed like that.

His hair, usually kept in an undercut with the long part stretching to the middle of his face is slicked back favoring the right side of his face. With his hair in that style his entire face is on display, every detail, especially his eyes. The suit he wears is just as nice as the one on my body, but it makes him look like modern royalty. In his hand is his phone; thumb working hard then suddenly stops, his gaze slicing into me. A smile breaks his face, testing my ability to not shove him into the backseat and take him then and there.

Rolling down the window he pulls an electric cigarette from the center console then nods to me, “You getting in or what, kid?”

“Coming.” I breathe, having to force myself to not bolt inside the car.

He’s even more alluring up close in that tux, as black as his hair, causing his skin to glow. I couldn’t help myself, reaching over; I wrap my fingers around the nape of his neck, crushing our lips together. We were stalled before a school building, people would surely recognize him if they hesitated long enough, but I didn’t care. Let them see that this man is mine. 

Half expecting him to brush me off, he returns the embrace, one of his own hands moving to hold my waist, the e-cig slipping from his grip, tumbling to the floor. I’m careful to kick it under the seat, passing it off as if I’m just shifting as both hands hold his face. It’s smooth. He’s just shaved. 

Breaking off the kiss he laughs softly, the sound intoxicating to hear, “Save some for later, Eren.” He relaxes into his seat, shifting into drive, “We’re going to be late for our reservations.”

“You look amazing.” I blurt out.

He actually laughs; his eyes crinkle when he does that. Those beautiful lips spread his face to show off his jawline and cheekbones. His hand moves out of instinct for his cig, he’s nervous, “…you look better in that tux than I imagined you would.”

Heat flares in my cheeks, “Yeah…where did you get this by the way?”

“Had Armin take your measurements while you slept.” He replies from behind his thumbnail, if he can’t get a cigarette he resorts to ripping apart his nail bed without realizing it, “Then had one of my father’s suits altered to fit you. For some reason I had one in the back of my closet…”

Thank god it came from Mr. Rivialle, and not drug money.

The car pulls up to a curb, Levi unlocks the car, slipping out and handing the keys to a valet. Stepping out, he immediately takes my hand. It takes a moment for me to register this, he never touches me outside of closed doors or under the tables of restaurants. This feels natural, right, how we should be. 

“This way.” He murmurs, gently guiding the way into the restaurant, but not before I glimpse the name Alinea. 

Stopping at the hostess stand he shifts so that his hand rests comfortably at my waist as it had in the car. A dumb smile grips my face, nice attire, one of the most expensive restaurants in Chicago and he’s acting as we do when we’re alone out in public. A fantasy of him kneeling with a diamond between his hands flashes through my mind, which sends me into a temporary euphoria. His hold abruptly digs into my side. Snapping out of the momentary dream I direct my stare to him, his eyes are trained to a man in the small lobby area, glazed over in that wall he’s built to keep people from reading his emotions. 

“Ah, Levi, what a surprise.” A voice I’d rather never hear again purrs, “You suit that tux quite well…”

The way this man smiles at him, how his eyes soak in the sight of the man beside me is sickening. His ogling halts once it reaches me, a frown flickers on his features as he musters a smile, “Your roommate.” Taking notice of where Levi’s hand is he adds, “Date?”

“Boyfriend.” I spit, snapping an arm around my lover’s torso, securing him beside me.

“Lover.” Levi corrects, drawing out the word, his lips curling in a repressed snarl then flat lining into a tense smile, “If you’ll excuse us, our room is ready.”

“Hope he pays you well.” The man nearly hisses, a sickening expression fighting his pleasant mask as he extends a hand to me, “Enjoy your night.”

Levi doesn’t give me the chance to accept his boss’ hand; he practically shoves me in front of him as the hostess leads us through the dining room. She takes a turn, leading up to a small hallway with open doorways. The lighting is warm, dim with a luxuriously modern setting. A very Levi atmosphere. Stopping inside a small alcove of a room she gestures of a set table, already adorned with appetizer, wine and water. He gives her a cordial nod; “I’ve got it from here, thank you.”

She returns his comment with a gentle wave then exits. Grabbing a chair he pulls it out for me. Taking a seat, he pushes it in to a comfortable distance from the table’s edge before claiming is own. Smiling tenderly from across the table he lifts up the glass, swirling around the liquid in an evaluation. “It’s a French wine, but grown in Cali-”

“Who is he?”

That pleased expression wrestles with his true emotions for a split second as he sets down the wine glass, “Eren…”

“Are you having an affair with me?”

“Excuse me, brat?”

“Are you?” the words come out more unsteady than I wanted, “Is that the man you’re-”

“Don’t be disgusting!” he shouts, all atmospheric noise slams to a deafening silence. Clearing his throat he stands, stifling walking around the table, stopping to kneel at my side. With a trembling hand he takes mine, stroking the skin, “Do you not listen to me when I say I love you?”

Not that tone, anything but that tone. The one where he lowers it to that low gravel that sounds like audible silk, but laced with pain. Cupping his face I shake my head, “Y-yes. I do. God. You just don’t add up sometimes, Levi I-I just need to know where you stand with me. With that man downstairs.”

“I love you, Eren. Not him.” His wounded expression links with mine, “I’m not good with this, I’m trying to keep you the best way I know how.”

“I’m sorry.”

He presses his lips to the back of my hand, “Let’s ignore all of that, for tonight. Tonight he means nothing, absolutely nothing. He doesn’t exist and nothing bad exists. It’s only us here, Eren.”

Stealing a brief kiss I breathe against his lips, “Only us, Levi.” 

…

Dinner was small, and divine. It was more of Levi’s thing than mine, but the fact that he was present, dressed in that way was more than satisfying for me. All night I spend staring at my lap or at him, and like an idiot I kept wringing the napkin, it’s a wonder it didn’t break.

He didn’t propose. 

Honestly, by the way he behaved, it wasn’t supposed to be a proposal. I’m not sure what he’s trying to say tonight, but the extravagance is nearing ridiculous. Without anyone else I’d be insulted, but seeing the pride in his eyes as he passes off his credit card without hesitation, it’s clear that this is some sort of victory for him.

And a fancy place to eat is one thing, but as we stand in the elevator of The Peninsula I can’t help but question his sudden lacking of frugality. Levi Rivialle, the man who would squint evilly at his Starbucks app because of the ‘outrageous prices for such a common thing as coffee’ or fight his childish want to celebrate a sale on meat when we’ve gone grocery shopping, has booked the grand deluxe suite at the most expensive hotel in all of Chicago. 

Maybe he was back into the drug ring.

The doors part, with our linked arms he leads the way to our suite, exposing rich mauve and neutral colors all around us. It was classic and somehow timeless despite the modern touch to everything. Just as with the restaurant, this is the extravagance that he seems at ease in. From behind the door clicks shut, his hands immediately drape on my shoulders, running down the length of my arms then back up to the curve of my inner elbow. His fingers curl around the area, jerking me against him, his arousal already pressing into me.

“You look…” he starts kissing on my neck, instantly melting any willpower. I yearn to tear myself from his embrace, whirl around to crush our mouths together, lift him into my arms then slam him into the perfectly made bed. A hot breath, “Sexy.” He tightens his hold, forcing me to stay in place as he licks at exposed skin, “I’ve wanted to get here the moment I saw you tonight.”

Inhaling deeply, the urge to break the restrain he’s established over me is strong, but I stay still, playing into his game. His kisses deepen; teeth grazing against skin, drawing a goose bump reaction. A gentle laugh tickles beneath my ear as he licks at the lobe, nibbling on the flesh of the area, my knees nearly giving out from underneath me. We’ve done this enough time; heaven knows he knows where those points are, where to press to get a desired reaction. Both hands release my arms to encircle my chest, his tongue still working its dangerous magic against sensitive areas, “Sit on the chair.”

“Yes, sir.”

A sharp breath whistles through his lips as his expression ignites, a playful predatory glint to him as he watches carefully as I casually claim a seat in the small living area outside of the tiny archway that leads to the bedroom section. Moving to cross my legs he shakes his head, slowly walking towards me, “Don’t cross them.” He orders, standing a few feet away, giving an ideal opportunity to soak in the sight of him in that suit. “Believe me, I want you out of that tux…but I want my fun with you first.”

“Do whatever you want…” I whisper.

He tries not to smile again as he curls a few fingers underneath his tie, taking his time to work it off. It falls to the floor, as does the coat. The shirt is a bit too tight on him; it’s stiff from being hardly worn. Muscles underneath flex then relax, he’s bulked up in the past few weeks, not that I can complain, and it’s given him better stamina. One then four buttons are undone; he stops once he reaches the start of the waist of his trousers that rest comfortably above his hips. 

“Please tell me that you aren’t going to stop there.”

A knowing smirk toys his lips as he closes the gap between us, straddling my lap. Once situated, he slowly begins to grind against my own growing erection, a hand runs down the length of my chest, he then bends a bit to capture my lips. I eagerly return each kiss, reaching up tot grip his hips, loving the solid feel of his body underneath my grasp. His muscles tense and coil as he keeps up the act, swerving in the seat as he undoes his trousers, revealing strange black underwear beneath. It had multiple straps and barely seemed like it could withstand the movements he’s doing. 

“Do you like it?” he questions, sliding off me to remove the rest of his attire, leaving him in only that strange black strappy underwear that could barely be qualified as such. But damn, he looked incredibly hot. Reaching out, I grip his hips, yanking him back into the chair with me, he scrambles atop me, fighting to get back into the position from seconds ago.

“You look amazing.” I breathe, playing with a strap running along his ass, “I love it.”

He smiles against a kiss, running a few fingers through my hair, tangling his fingers in it, jerking my head back to attack my newly exposed neck. His hips throw themselves into my lap again, picking up the pace but faster as his hands travel all around my body, gripping delicate areas, working hard to drive me to where he is now. But I’m already there; I’ve been there since I saw him in that damned tuxedo. However, he’s almost always playing with me, I want to see how long he can last like this.

His kisses become deeper, teeth sinking into skin momentarily to quickly release it. Tongue and mouth suckles on my neck, his erection was desperately rubbing against the space between my legs as he practically rips off my tie. Breathing heavily he continues to working, abruptly slapping the outer flesh of my thigh. An irritated exhale sounds between hungry kisses. It takes everything I have not to throw my own clothes off and take him then and there, taste every inch of his body, listen to him scream out my name, or let him have me and I moan his. But there’s a strange satisfaction in seeing Levi work himself up into this state, he’s normally so composed and calculated, even when we have sex, never his bouncing, horny man writhing in the agony of teasing himself with my body.

“Touch me.” He rasps, short nails test the material of the suit jacket, “Touch me. You’re not a customer, damn it, touch me.”

Heart plummeting into my stomach, I shove him off, not fully aware that I did until he stumbles a bit as he barely catches his own fall. His features drain of all color, his rapid breathing from the lap dance filling the air as I stare at him, really stare at him. 

The late night job that only happens on the weekends, glitter and more muscle definition from what appears to be working out. This influx of money, the hickies and that blond man’s strange remark in the restaurant.

‘Hope he pays you well.’

“Eren…”

“Are you a prostitute?” I murmur, images of that man holding Levi as I do, kissing him like I do, Levi accepting it all graciously as he does with me. My Levi grinding in his lap, dancing on a pole for him, stripping for him, doing degrading acts for him. It isn’t something that he would do, behaving like that was a stretch between him and I completely alone, much less reducing himself to someone like that on a stage. 

He buttons his trousers, a hand hiding most of his face.

“A stripper?”

Nothing.

“A whore then?” I demand, voice cracking as water threatens to break me, a trembling hand presses to my forehead. Everything is spinning; the tiniest details flying around in my head then magnify themselves for close inspection on if those were lies too. “You’re not a bartender. You’re…” the envious glint in the blond man’s eyes as they lingered on Levi’s body, “You’re his whore aren’t you?”

Silence.

“Levi!” I nearly scream, “Levi answer me, damn you! That’s your job isn’t it? That’s how you can afford all of this!” I gesture around us, “You dance for that blond man, you fuck him, for money or your own pleasure I-”

“It’s more complicated than that!” he cuts in, lowering his hand. He is shaking too. “It’s for the money, Eren. Only the money.”

“What is he to you?” 

“A paycheck.”

“Do you love him?” 

Fear swells inside me at the wait for the answer to that question. His pained eyes turn to me as he shakes his head, carefully sitting in my lap, doing so in a feared manner, as if I’d throw him off. Swallowing thickly he holds my face, kissing me deeply, passionately, to the point that my lips hurt, that warmth exploded in my chest, forcing all of this to melt away. There was him and only him, his lips, soft and hot on mine. His hands were there too, calloused from painting and sketching, yet somehow smooth. Ending it he rests his forehead against mine.

“I hate him. I hate this situation. I don’t know too much on what’s going on in my life, or what will go on, but I know that I love you, Eren Jaeger. I don’t know how many times I can say that to make you believe me.”

Gripping his chin, I force our lips together; giving him the same kiss he gifted me. A soft moan falls from him as he melts into my arms. I wrap him in my embrace, clutching him tightly. Stopping the kiss again, he rests his head against my chest, “I thought you’d storm out if you knew.” He mutters, winding his arms around me, clinging tightly, “I figured you’d be disgusted, that you’d leave.” 

Burying my face in the crown of his hair I sigh, “I’m not mad about the stripping, Levi.” His features brighten slightly as he adjusts to maintain eye contact, “I’m mad that you’ve been lying to me. And if you do it again, I’m gone.” 

He gives me silence once more; the stern grip on my midsection lessens as he physically deflates in my arms. I want to be serious about the ultimatum; I want to know that the statement said is truly the statement meant. Yet, it’s excruciatingly clear that he could lie endlessly and I would still find an excuse for him, a justifiable cause to horrid actions.

But I guess that’s why they call this mess love.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erwin asks for a price.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I take forever to update! But thank you guys so so much for these super long beautifully in depth analyses/reviews of this fan fiction! I seriously grin like a moron reading them and cannot thank you enough for writing them. They give me such insight as a writer and how the reading experience is for you guys.
> 
> Also to those who DM me asking if they can make fan art, the answer is always YES! Just be sure to link to me, I want to see! :)

We had spent the entire night together, tangled in the bed sheets, exhausted from an experience that I could only identify as ‘hate sex.’ Somehow in the chaos of trying to physically break one another we had surrendered, collapsing into the wrecked bed, gently kissing each other mindlessly. Fairly convinced there was barely enough energy to breathe we found the strength to talk. I don’t talk, I don’t like it, things start to unravel and unexpected secrets that have been locked up since they were known spill without a second thought. 

His ocean eyes were fixated on me the entire time and our hands lazily traced each other’s bodies. I was nervous to the point of being an emotional wreck, yet there was not the urge to smoke. For this I’m thankful, Eren hates it when I smoke. During one of the quiet lulls he was kissing on my shoulders, stopping on the right side, the tattooed side. Fingers traced along my shoulder then down the length of my arm, his lips lingering as he spoke, “You promised to tell me whatever I wanted for an hour.” 

The truth, in the talking we did I was desperate to make the stripping up to him in anyway possible, giving him a free pass to know anything about me seemed more than gracious of me. He kissed the skin again, “I want to know what these all mean.”

“Shit, brat, that might take all night.” I grumbled. I pointed to the top, a green dragon spiraling around my upper bicep, "My mentor in the drug ring in high school. He always really liked dragons and shit, favorite color was green. Died in a shooting in the late nineties.” 

I went lower to the waves beneath that one, “My mother, she died when I was young and I don’t have many memories of her. But the one memory I have is when we were vacationing in Barbados, she was holding me as we walked the beach, her cheek resting on my head...she died that night. But I remember her warmth, the sounds of the waves and her singing some old Japanese song. Her hair was soft, her skin just as soft. She…” my voice was cracking, I hated talking about her not because I hated her, but because that after all this time the pain still was deep and fresh, “…she died putting me to bed. She died holding me.”

Eren wrapped a strong arm around my torso, pulling me firmly against his chest. He kissed underneath my jaw before nestling his jaw atop my left shoulder. I cleared my throat to nod to the tattoo beneath that. It was and is two light pink flowers, “Farlan and Isabel, friends I had when I was a drug dealer, during a fight with another dealer, they were shot and killed. It was the last drug fight I had before I went to prison. They're magnolia's, like Isabel's last name, they got married a year before they died, Farlan for some god only knows reason took her last name instead of keeping his.” 

The flowers faded into an orange geometric pattern that led to a radial design mimicking a stain glass scene of Lucifer falling from grace, “My dark days, I wanted them on my skin always, so that when I though that the time was rough, there's no possible way they could be worse than those years in prison.” I touched the Lucifer falling design, “Fallen angel, should explain itself.” I curled my fist showing the knuckle tattoos, “Slave, I'm a slave to a lot of things, cigs, alcohol, money and…you.”

I tapped my neck where the compass tattoo is, “To keep direction, and for my father, as shitty as he was, he did his best to guide me but I never listened. I wish I had despite him being a bastard and hating me, he did try. Now I'm reminded to think of him before I do something stupid again.” 

He smiled at me, guiding us back into the sex stained sheets. His limbs wrapped around my torso, my smaller form fitting into his larger shape perfectly and comfortably. The sun had started to rise making his eyes look like blue stained emeralds in the golden light, flecks of amber somehow shining through. “You’ve been through a lot of loss, Lev.” He murmured, voice wavering, “I-I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, don’t apologize, you didn’t kill them.” I sighed, kissing his chest, looking up at him, “If anyone should apologize tonight it’s me.”

He swallowed thickly, “If you say so.”

Something in the way he was so quiet in those moments didn’t sit right with me. Everything had seemed to be falling back into the same rhythm of before my fuckup was known to him until after that damned tattoo talk. I really shouldn’t be surprised, the closer people get to me the more they realized just how damaged I am and they realize that whatever they saw in the first place isn’t worth it.

He must’ve not seen something horribly bad since he still is adamant that I come with him to New York for his modeling call. I even asked him to be sure and he acted insulted that I dared question it. Now is the hard part, where I force one foot in front of the other to Erwin Smith’s office with an electric cigarette methodically leaving and greeting my mouth in a subconscious precision. I had already asked off a weekend, now I was asking for a week at least, Eren even had no idea when he would come back, his agency in Chicago is paying for his and I’s travel to New York and back and the agency in New York is paying for our hotel. So this wasn’t much skin off my back, but there is hesitancy in asking the man who technically pays your bills and leisure’s for more time off than deserved. He’s come off as a fairly generous man, has shown me a kinder side than he’s needed to in the short time we’ve known one another. When I earn my paycheck he never touches me without proper payment or permission. However Eren despises him to a vicious bitterness that comes off as unwarranted. He’ll narrow his eyes somewhere obscure and say that Erwin Smith looks at me the way someone would at a piece of valued property, as if he owns me.

Sadly, he’s not too far off from that analogy.

Raising my hand to the door I give it a few swift knocks, from the other side of the thick oak the deep rumbled, “Yes?” sounds, which I take as invitation to enter. The portal opens to reveal the large blond man behind his desk, the large window frames on the walls gifting him more power to his already powerful air. A smile stretches on his lips as he sets his pen down, “Ah, Levi, good afternoon. How are you?”

I shrug as I stand before the two plush seats perfectly angled before his desk. Smith gestures to them, “Take a seat, can I get you a drink?”

“I’m fine, thanks.”

His smile wans to a pleasant thinning of the lips, not quite a smirk or grin, “He’s quite handsome. The boy you were with. Your roommate was he? Or your lover?”

“I’m not here to discuss my personal life with you.”

“I’d like to discuss it, if I may.” He laces his fingers together, propping them in the center of the leather work pad at the center of his desk, “You’re an employee of my establishment, and considering your line of work it is dictated in your workers contract that-”

“That I state my full sexual history in case I am at risk to myself or other clients. Yeah. I know that. And I’ve given you my entire history with medical checkups that this line of work requires. But if you recall, I’m not obligated to give my body to anyone unless I wish to do so for profit or otherwise. And seeing that you personally manage my activities when I’m working, you know just as well as I do who and who has not touched my body when I’m here doing my job.” His lips pressed into a fine line, restricting himself from interrupting me as I did him, “What I do with him is none of your business, Mr. Smith.”

A brief courtesy smile flashes on his expression, “I only ask to ensure that your information is up to date.”

“It is.”

“…what can I help you with today, Levi?”

“I need more time off.”

A long sigh.

“I have to visit my aunt in New York, she’s really sick, I’m the only one who can get off work. You seem like a reasonable man, I figured you’d understand and give me the time I need.”

“How long?”

“A week at least. I’ll keep in contact with you to let you know, things can change very suddenly in this sort of situation.”

“What is she sick with?”

He seems genuinely concerned for my imaginary aunt’s health, posture leaning across the desk, impossibly thick brows knit and lips partially opened. A hand leaves the laced pose to direct to the seats between us, “Please, sit, I’m sorry to hear that a family member is sick.”

Claiming the seat that was inches from me I nod, “Yeah, she’s had lung cancer for awhile now, it was in recession for awhile but’s come back pretty badly.” I was quoting what I’ve heard off television shows, “I don’t have any siblings, but she has a daughter but she’s in Jersey and ridiculously busy and asked if there was any way I could be there to make sure the doctors aren’t…”

“I understand completely.” He stops me, standing. His heavy footsteps like a sudden countdown as he comes to the other side of the desk. Resting half on half off the edge of the desk his light blue eyes usually mimicking ice melt as he reaches out to grip my shoulder. “I’ve had a close friend, Mike, his sister had cancer, she’s better now, but it gets rough. I’m sorry, Levi.”

“It-it’s alright, really. I appreciate your compassion.”

“Would you like company? I know these things can be rough to deal with alone.” His hand moves to hold my upper arm, “And I know you distance yourself from me but I’d like you to know that…”

Swallowing thickly I watch as his hand drifts to grip my own. He’s so large; I’ve seen him partially naked from our private sessions that he pays so heftily for. I’ve also seen how his expression dips into these unprotected masks of lust, desire and some other emotion I can’t quite place. There’s no questioning that he’s handsome, but in an American superhero sense, not in the beautiful, masculine delicacy that Eren is. And while it can be hard for me to not want to give into the pull of physical attraction, the thought of Eren no longer mine keeps me as nothing more than paid pleasure to him. Yet in how tenderly his hand caresses mine with that unplaced emotion beginning to shine through in his eyes it’s clear he and I are not matched in many areas of this complicated business.

“Levi.” Erwin starts again, snapping me back to him, “I know you think of me just as your boss, or the man who pays to…”

“Erwin, don’t.”

“Why?” he asks, the question coming out more like a demand, “Why can’t I speak this frrely to you? I’ve given a perfect setup here, I’ve given you so much, I don’t think even you understand how much.”

“I understand, Erwin, and I think…”

He exhales, the hold on my hand dropping so he could run his own through his hair. “…is money the only thing that brings you to me? To our room?”

“Money and gratitude.”

A long silence. He wets his lips, “What brings you to that boy?”

“I didn’t come here to discuss this.” I clear my throat, having to push the chair back a bit in order to stand upright, “Do I get the time off or not? I need to get in contact with my cousin to let her know.”

“What does she do?”

“What?”

“Your cousin. What does she do for work?”

“Personal accounting for high-end clients. She handles rich people’s money. The holidays are around the corner, she’s very busy.”

He shifts to stand, hands slip into his trouser pockets, “Very well, given the circumstances, I’ll allow you the time off, you have my number, I want you to keep in contact with me on if it’ll be longer or shorter than a week.”

“Thank you for understanding.”

“Of course. But…for this gracious accommodation, I expect something from you as well, Levi.”

“More private hours?” I raise my brow. That seemed right up his ally, it even seemed equal at this point, most jobs would’ve dropped me.

A smirk, “How much would I have to pay you to stop seeing that boy? “

“That’s non-negotiable.” 

“Is it?” he starts to walk about the room, his voice taking on the same tone as it does around his business clients when I work for his few friends of his blue blood ranks who share his tastes in bed. “You’re a man who will shoot a gun into a man’s head or insert a knife into that same man’s jugular for a certain price. I know a lot about you, Levi Ackerman, a lot more than you credit me for. I thought you knew me from the drug dealing in Atlanta. Maybe prison time made you forget a thing or two.”

Muscles tighten at his use of my real last name, of my life in Georgia and prison was something Hange with the help of my father worked hard to wipe from my records. Out of habit I scan the area casually for a weapon, I usually carry a pocketknife for protection, but that would be too petty. It would be easier to eliminate him outside on the streets, through paid poison, bad drugs; there are ways to make men stop talking. 

“Surely you must’ve read the paperwork on who got you from prison.” He continues, “It wasn’t your father, it wasn’t your uncle or friends from your little drug ring. Perhaps it was the man who kept asking to meet in person for exchanges, who would meet you at your shitty Seven-Eleven cover job on your lunch breaks, who would offer you cigarettes. Who wore a brown wig and dressed on your level, but even then I would catch you glancing at my watch a bit too long, I figured you pieced it together long ago.”

The memories flash, suddenly that look in his eyes was crystal clear, it was infatuation, I would see it beaming at me over the counter all those years ago. He would smile at me, laugh, and have his hand linger on mine longer than needed when we exchanged change or product. Of course without the suit, the wig and the fact that he was not someone I paid particular attention to it’s easy to see how he slipped underneath my radar. 

“I was in Atlanta managing my father’s business, this club I run on the side for my own enjoyment and to pay some bills for people who need the money. I go to Dallas, Los Angeles, New York, Europe to do business, but Atlanta I would be careful to seek you out undercover. I hoped you had noticed my passes.” A chuckle, “It seems that was not the case.” His hand clasps my shoulder once again, causing me to barely jump, “I went to that Seven-Eleven as often as possible, found your drug ring, bought from you alone. At first sight I wanted you, and when I no longer saw you, found out you were out of my grasp, I craved you, ached for you more than I could have. I wanted our meager conversation, your ghost touches, to just hear your voice. So I used my power, set you free. I thought to myself, at least if he’s out in this world he’ll find a way back to that gas station or to me somehow, I can find him. His father owes me that much now.” 

He sighs, rubbing a thumb along the curve of my neck sends chills down my back, “But now, you have that boy. You have emotions for him, I could see it in the hallway of your apartment, I saw it in the restaurant. And here I was stupidly relieved that you had somehow stumbled back into my life. I had to get married to please my family, a woman who shares my views, she sees her woman, I see my men, we like each other enough to be wed.” his lips hover where his thumb was, hot breath forces my eyes shut, I think of Eren, “Now, I have you so much closer to me than customer and employee. I have gotten to know you better; I want to know you, Levi. I want to learn all about you, protect you. So I ask, what do I have to pay to get that boy out of the picture?”

The room was blurring, Erwin’s size alone was completely overwhelming and consuming, and when he imposed himself there was he and he alone. It was impossible to focus on anything else, especially with these words spilling from his lips. My mind was racing along with my heart and blood; adrenaline was toiling underneath cold skin and clammy hands. A lone thought kept pulsing in my mind, ‘Ask Hange, talk to Hange, she’ll know. Verify this with Hange. Hange will know.’

I wet my lips, but no words are able to form. He replies to the silence with a kiss to the skin his mouth hovers against, “It’s a lot to take in. I know. I’m sorry. You just…something about you, the way you are, it makes me do things I typically wouldn’t do.”

“Do I have the time off?” I breathe, “Do I…”

“Yes.” He laughs, kissing me again, the other arm now around my hips, pulling me to his front, “Yes, you have the time off. Now answer my…”

“I need to go.” I sputter, abruptly shoving him off, breathing heavily, shaking hands pat down my body, pulling out my lighter and cigarette pack. He watches stolidly as I fight to light it, taking ragged drags. I nod to him, barely able to look at him, “I-I…thank you for your time…”

A frown fights his face, “You owe me a price tag, Levi. I know even you have one, there’s a price you’ll be willing to pay to let that boy go.”

“There is none.” I rasp between drags, “He-he’s nothing…nothing to me.” God those words hurt, but this man, Erwin Smith, he’s dangerous, “I-I was just playing with him. Kids…they’re easy to fuck around with, easy to fuck.”

He doesn’t believe me, his arms cross over his chest, “Is that so?”

“Yes. I like making people think they’re in love. I like the game of it.”

“That’s…”

“That’s who I am.”

“I understand.”

“Do you?”

“I do.”

Quiet. Only the breathing from my cigarette, I recklessly tapped it off on the floor, he didn’t show any signs of caring. Wetting his lips he moves to sit behind his desk again, picking up his pen, “Is there a price?”

“No.” I force a smile from the smoke, “For you, I’m free.”


End file.
